


Sable Knight (Currently Editing)

by finnian4ever (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Dragon/human sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Underage Kissing, dragon/human love story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/finnian4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marked at the age of fourteen. The prospect for young Sable is frightening, but he has no other choice. A Marking ensures a successful future, something that Sable desperately needs. But still, for the candidate for his Marking to be a dragon...the idea is intimidating, but Sable soon discovers that the one night with the man his parents paid for will drastically change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What…what did you just say?"

"Are you deaf now as well as half-blind, boy?"

"But you…you can't be serious…I'm only fourteen…"

"Yes, the earlier it is done the better the fortune. You know that, and I am quite unhappy that you are displaying this shocked demeanor to me, rather than an air of deep appreciation. It is nearly unheard of for a family with as little money as ours to arrange a Marking for their only child."

In a small, chilly room hung with brightly colored fabrics, a father and son sat facing one another across a table laid with a simple meal. The door was closed against the whistling November wind but the wood was thin, and little gusts of freezing air kept finding their way inside. The young boy was staring at his father with wide, frightened eyes, a spoonful of stew suspended over his bowl. His father huffed slightly at his expression.

"Don't give me that look; it's not like we sold your soul!"

The man was nearly as small as his son, but his slender arms were corded with muscle and his hands bore the wear of a working man. He was wrapped in a patched sweater, just as his son was, both of them having to fight the cold even while inside their home. The boy let his spoon sink back into his stew, and his eyes followed it, staring into his bowl as if hoping to find some solution there.

"Don't just sit there, Sable, say something for goodness' sake. And don't play with your food; your mother worked her fingers to the bone to pay for the meat that's in there."

"I've lost my appetite." Sable said quietly. His father ran his fingers through his thinning hair and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Must you be so dramatic?"

"And just how do you want me to react?" Sable asked, swallowing a bit.

"Well, I was hoping for a bit more appreciation from you. Your mother and I have been scraping and saving for your Marking from the day you were born. Don't you understand how important this is?"

The boy shivered at his father's words, shrinking into himself slightly as he answered timidly,

"Of course I do, but I just can't believe this; I never thought that this was an option for me! I've had no time to prepare myself for something so…drastic. If ever I did entertain the idea, I always thought I would be older. I thought…I would have more time. It's, it's just so sudden…"

His father leaned forward on the table, a stern look on his face.

"I don't think you understand the weight of the gift we are giving you, Sable. You're almost fifteen, and there's little you can do to make yourself useful here with us any longer. You're not a little child anymore, and you need to start considering your future. Regardless of what trade you chose, a Marking will grantee you success. You act as though this is news for you!"

Sable's breathing had become shallow, his body tense as he considered exactly what was happening. It was all too much, all too quickly…

"Father…you…you are really going to make me do this?"

"Make you do this?" His father repeated, anger heating his voice now, "Didn't you hear a word I just said? Do you know how much we have sacrificed over the years to save enough money for this? Do you know how hard we have worked so that you can make something of yourself beyond being the son of a cloth-dyer? The art isn't in you to begin with, with those eyes of yours! You can't even earn your own keep if you can't see any colors! The time has come for you to pay forward what we have given for your sake; by being Marked. Our business will flood with customers when news of this gets around. At this point it is the only way you can contribute to our family or have any kind of future on your own."

Sable looked devastated, his lips parted slightly as he listened to his father's angry speech. A knot clenched in his stomach, as well as the base of his throat. It choked him, making his throat ache and his breathing more and more strained.

"It's not that I'm not grateful, father. I never even knew you and mom were saving so much but…it's…it's my virginity…"

His father's face softened a bit, but his expression was still determined. His voice, however, was quieter when he spoke again,

"I understand that, Sable, but this is happening. You need to make peace with it and prepare yourself."

Sable swallowed hard, feeling a deep ache in his throat warning him of coming tears. He barely managed to ask, through trembling lips,

"Who...?"

"A dragon of the North. Sarik Eres." The ache in Sable's throat clenched as his head snapped up.

"A dragon?"

"Yes, my boy. Be proud; once marked by a dragon you will be a beacon of success and accomplishment. Any avenue down which you turn will open for you with no restrictions."

"I can't…believe…" Sable closed his mouth against the hoarse croak that rose in his voice. A dragon…it was an unprecedented honor. No one in this village had ever had the means to be marked by such a creature. Dragons were not rare in themselves, they often walked among humans in every city and town in their human forms, but their Markings were incredibly expensive. It was said that a dragon's Marking was special, something that endowed the receiver with good fortune and magical protection.

While Sable knew all this, he was far from being excited or even grateful. The idea of being Marked by anyone, let alone a dragon, had always been beyond his reach, or so he thought. He had always assumed that he would grow up, find his own trade, and marry according to his own time and desires. Now, to be told that his virginity would be taken by a complete stranger…a dragon…just to improve his fortune…it seemed downright cruel.

"You had better at least try to finish that stew before it gets cold." His father's voice brought him out of his dark musings, and he shook his head, feeling the itch of tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry father…I just can't finish it…I'll save it for tomorrow, I..." He felt the tears slip past his eyelids and roll down his cheeks.

"Go on then to your room," His father said, not unkindly, "go have a good cry and all, but this is happening, and you will thank us someday."

Without another word, Sable rose and headed for the doorway to the hall.

"And you should begin packing as well," His father called after him, "your emissary will be coming to pick you up later tomorrow."

Sable stopped in the doorway, feeling yet another stab through his heart. Tomorrow. So very, very soon. He left the doorway quickly, feeling the urgency to get to the privacy of his room. He slid his door open and shut quickly, leaning back against it and sliding down to the floor, letting the sobs take him and wrack his small body. Anxiety and panic were flooding him, tightening his throat to the point that he could hardly breathe. He had to weep all the more to relieve the tension.

The worst part of all his sorrow was knowing that however unfair his father may seem, everything he spoke was true. Sable had been born a colorblind child to a couple who dyed cloth for a living. Their income depended on creating the right colors, something that Sable could never do. In order for him to help his parents with the work load at all he had to be directed action for action, which ended up being more troublesome in the long run. The most he could do was prepping the cloth to be dyed. He was good at selecting quality cloths from the shops, and bargaining with the sellers. Beyond this, however, he could do nothing to help his parents in their trade. He could not even learn it. He attended the local school, but the village was so small that there were very few children there his own age. Past the age of sixteen most male children either took on their own trade or found their own place in the family business, so Sable was one of the oldest in the school. The other few who were there were all much younger than him. Many times he would skip lessons and spend his time out on the grassy hills or forests that surrounded the village. The teachers could have cared less, having considered him something of a lost cause anyway on account of his inability to even help his parents.

Supporting one's elders was the cornerstone of village life, and being unable to do so made Sable feel like he was breaking an ancient rite. While there was little he could do about it, Sable had never thought much about his future.

But now…He let out a long, halting breath as he gained some measure of control over his sporadic gasps. He leaned his head back against his door and ran his fingers at random through his raven black hair, tossing away the long strands that hung over his ice-grey eyes. He had had his 'cry', just as his father had known he would, and now he felt numb all over. The tears dried up and he found himself staring across his room at nothing. It was a small room, with a small but thickly blanketed mattress on the floor, a small table, and a set of drawers. There was one window, but it was nothing more than a slit in the wall, just big enough for Sable to stick his slender arm through if the glass actually opened somehow. The faint light of the setting sun was glinting against it now, and Sable mechanically reached above his head to flip the switch on the wall. Light brightened the room from the single bulb that was set in the side of the wall.

Sable sighed and dragged himself up just long enough to stumble the two or three steps to his mattress and then he dropped down onto it. He burrowed beneath the pile of blankets and rested his head against his pillow. He felt like letting the night take him, drown him from all the fear that was plaguing him. He was fourteen. He had never so much as kissed anyone, girl or boy, and now a dragon was going to take his body. He shook as he thought of it, the shock still encompassing his entire being.

A small knock at his door made him jump slightly. He did not answer, for he knew who it was. He heard the door slide open quietly, and then soft footsteps made their way to the side of his mattress. He felt a gentle hand touch the top his head, the only part of him that was visible above the pile of blankets. He lifted back the top layer to poke his face out.

"I'm scared." He said brokenly, as his mother's face gazed down at him. She knelt beside him and stroked his hair, saying nothing. She never did.

"I don't know how I am going to do this." He said, closing his eyes, "What in the world does he want me to say?"

She hummed gently, continuing to pet his hair soothingly. It was all she could do to comfort him; she had not spoken a word since his little sister had died two years ago. So they sat there in silence, his mother stroking his hair, and Sable trembling beneath his blankets from a force that had nothing to do with the frigid wind moaning outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Sable woke early the next morning, called to life by the cries of the roosters in their shed. Even above the ever-present howling wind their crowing could be heard. The boy rolled over in his nest of blankets and groaned, wondering briefly why he felt a sudden rush of anxiety through his chest. The next second, however, reality flooded back to him and he remembered what the day held for him. Today his emissary would come to take him away. He shivered, and had to take a deep breath as he remembered all that he had ever been taught about Markings.

Emissaries were the middlemen for the families of the one being Marked. They arranged all the details set forth in the Marking Contract and established communication with the Marker. In cases of those who lived far out of the city, an Emissary came out to escort the selected member of the family to the trysting place. Sable knew that an Emissary was essentially a guardian, and would look after him until the business was done, when he would be returned home.

"I wonder what my Emissary will be like." Sable thought, having heard tales of some very strict Emissaries who had actually driven their charges to tears with overwhelming expectations. Sable knew he would be at the stranger's mercy while in his care, and wondered just how long he would have to wait until the actual night of the deed.

Some Markings followed a prologue of almost courtship behaviors between the Marker and the one receiving the Mark (called a Ward), where the two would enjoy what they could of the big-city scene. Sable had heard tales of extremely expensive Markings where the Marker would take their Ward to concerts, high-end stores, and fancy restaurants, treating them to everything. This type of glitzy 'wooing' was the watermark standard. There were lesser forms of this, like the Emissary taking the Ward out to experience the toast of the city in the Marker's place, and then only for one or two days. Any Marking that included at least one day for the Ward to relax and become familiarized with their surroundings, and/or spend time with their Marker cost a high price.

Sable had always thought the 'wooing' scenarios far more ridiculous than anyone seemed able to realize; whatever coin the Marker would shell out for their Ward would obviously be covered at least in part by their payment. It was nothing more than a charade, a false web of security woven by the high-priced Markers to ease the Wards into their beds more willingly.

"I wonder what kind of prelude there is to a dragon Marking…" Sable muttered to himself, as he realized that a dragon's price in itself was more than he ever thought his parents would be able to afford. Even if they had been saving for fourteen years since the day he was born, how could they ever be able to pay for more than a cheap lay in the afternoon with a politician? Then another thought struck him, and it was so powerful, so intense, that his eyes widened where he lay.

His sister's Marking…of course they must have been saving for her as well…He felt tears burn his eyes. His sister had been eight when she died two years ago, and that would have been a lot of money saved for her even with what little they earned. They must have pooled it together to give him such an expensive Marking. Sable gulped down the solid lump of pain in his throat. His father was right. No matter how he felt about the situation, his father was absolutely right; this was an incredible gift and he needed to make peace with it. Somehow.

Making peace would be easier if Sable knew a little more about dragons. His village was not so obscure that he had never seen a dragon before; Nardak was a tradesman's village and strangers came through on a daily basis. Two or three dragons had passed through in Sable's lifetime, but he had to be told that was what they were. It was difficult for Sable to point them out at a glance because of his colorblindness. He could run his ice-grey eyes right over a dragon and not even know that's what they were unless he took time to note the curved and pointed canines, the slit pupils of the eyes, and the pointed ears. These features could be overlooked completely from the right distance, but the hair was unmistakable to most people. From what Sable had been told dragons carried the color of their scales in their human hair, making them inescapably stand out. There were of course dragons who were black, brown, and gold, making them harder to identify in human form, but there were also more startling and unearthly shades. Bright blue, yellow, magenta, green, silver, essentially every color imaginable could be reflected in different dragons from different areas of the world. This was the reason that Sable would never be able to pick a dragon out from a crowd; he would never see the brilliant hair as anything more than a shade of black, white, or grey.

Ah yes, the brilliant hair. Sable blew out a breath when he remembered another fact he had picked up long ago. In a regular Marking the Ward received a quick sonic brand during the act, usually applied by a signature ring worn by the Maker. The side of the neck was the normal place for the mark to be placed and it didn't even hurt. Apparently, a dragon Marking was reflected in the Ward's own hair once the deed was done; a single lock would forever carry their Marker's color. How this was possible, no one could explain apart from the magic that was said to hang about dragons in general; no technology was used to make the mark, thus increasing their price. Sable remembered a girl of about sixteen who had come to the shop one time when he was young. She had a lighter strip of hair on one side of her dark head. He heard that the color was called aqua. While he could not see the color, the difference in shade was starkly noticeable, even to him. Her mother had bragged to Sable's parents about how wide the strip of color was, indicating that her daughter had been granted extremely good fortune. Apparently the larger and more noticeable the color, the more blessed the Ward was by the joining, and the better their future would be.

Sable had always thought this was a complete sham. Of course anyone with a strip of dragon hair could be guaranteed a good future because everyone around them would make it happen, simply due to that belief. It was a future of people's own making; everyone thought they were blessed, and therefore they were. Ridiculous. Even so, it was a proven system, and it would be the making of Sable and his family. There was nothing he could do to deny that, much as he'd like to.

Knowing that lying there any longer was simply avoiding the inevitable, Sable threw back his many layers of blankets and crawled off his mat. He shivered a bit as the cold managed to nip him even through the thick sweater he had worn to bed. He even had socks on as well and his feet were still bitten by winter's icy teeth. He slipped quickly into his tall leather boots, his cold fingers trembling as he did up the many buckles on the sides. He didn't bother changing his clothes, as he was still fully dressed from last night. This was a frequent occurrence in the wintertime. He walked out his door and through the short hallway to the kitchen. His mother was there at the sink, scrubbing the eggs she had collected from the chicken coop. A frying pan was already sitting on the tiny stove, butter sizzling on the bottom.

Wordlessly, Sable stepped up to the stove and turned down the heat of the burner, taking the handle of the skillet and tilting the pan this way and that to let the butter coat the bottom evenly. He could sense his mother's eyes on him, and he turned to smile at her. She smiled back, and handed him an egg when he reached out a hand for one. He began cracking eggs into the skillet expertly, keeping all the yolks intact. His mother patted his back, which was her way of acknowledging his skill. He grinned and helped her dry the clean eggs as the ones in the skillet cooked. It was always nicer to cook during the winter, as the stovetop provided heat. They had an electric heater as well, but it was not enough to heat the entire house evenly, just enough to keep the cold from becoming dangerous. It was situated in the studio, to give as much heat to the workspace as possible, so that the job would be easier during the cold months. Sable knew his father was in the studio now, filling the tubs with water, mixing dyes, and laying out the cloth for Sable to prep. It was the one contribution he could make. That and cooking.

Sable flipped the eggs over and seasoned them with salt and pepper before slicing bread and putting it in the toaster. As he waited for the second side of the eggs to cook, he bit his lip and couldn't help but ask softly,

"Mum, do you know what time my Emissary will be here?"

She paused where she had been taking plates down from a cupboard, before putting them on the counter and holding up two fingers.

"Two o'clock?" Sable asked, but his mother shook her head.

"Eleven o'clock." He tried again, and she nodded. He felt his heart sink. It was eight now, giving him only a few short hours before he had to leave. Before his life would change forever. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because his mother came over to him and pat his cheek softly, reassuringly. She was taller than him, and Sable wondered how strange it might be to look down at your own child and know what you were paying a complete stranger to do to them. It was almost…heartless. But reality was cruel, and this was how it had to be. Survival of the fittest, in a sense.

"I'm fine, mum." He lied, as her eyes watered, "really. I'm fine."

At that moment he heard the telltale creak of his father's footfall on the creaking wood of the hallway. His mother turned away from him, fishing out silverware now. It was not as if his father was in any way a bad or frightening person, but he spoke his mind, and at times that could be very hurtful. Sable had no doubt that if his father were to walk in on his mother coddling him he would make a very scathing comment. As it was, Sable was just sliding the eggs out of the skillet and distributing them to each plate when his father entered.

"Morning." He said in a tone that he hoped was steady, while avoiding his father's eyes.

"Morning, son." His father replied, "breakfast?"

"Yea. Just waiting on the toast."

"Extra butter on mine, thanks."

Sable saw his father kiss his mother on the cheek, which warmed his heart. There were not a lot of men who would treat his mother as kindly after she stopped speaking. Even with the occasional unwise comment, his father had been very good to her.

They ate in silence, almost as if they were all avoiding the topic at hand. When Sable's mother began to collect the empty plates from the table, his father finally spoke.

"Your Emissary will be arriving at eleven. I'll still expect you to prep a few of the bolts before then, but when you finish pack your things and put on your nicest sweater."

The tension in his throat was back, the anxiety. Sable nodded wordlessly before asking,

"For how long am I packing? An afternoon? A day?"

His father gave him an incredulous look, and then smiled.

"Try a week."

Sable's jaw dropped, and his father laughed as his expression.

"I told you this was a great gift, Sable, and I wasn't lying."

Sable found his tongue and managed to ask,

"How could you possibly afford…a whole week?"

"That's none of your concern, just be thankful."

Sable couldn't believe it. Everything was happening so fast and so unexpectedly, and now he'd be away from home for an entire week? The cost was mind-boggling. There had to be some other explanation. There was no way…

"Stop staring, lad, and get to prepping that roll of muslin I laid out. Snap, snap!"

Sable obeyed. The studio was the largest part of the house, it was the reason their rooms were all so small. It was a very large room, with shelves and tables lining the walls, and round tubs dotting the open space of the floor. In the back was a walk-in closet where the fabric bolts were kept. The ceiling was tall enough to accommodate huge hanging racks for the completed fabric, the tops accessible by a small platform with its own set of stairs. There was a washtub in the very corner, it's stone walls stained from the various colors that had been washed out of fabric and off their bodies.

Sable liked the studio, even if he couldn't see any of the colors that he knew must exist in here. Whenever anyone visited they would gasp and go on about how beautiful it was with the variety of different colored fabrics and dying tubs. 'Like a rainbow', they would always say, but Sable had no idea what a rainbow looked like in full color glory.

He tried to keep his mind off the arrival of their guest as he prepped the fine white muslin by rolling it out on the floor. He measured and cut and applied different oils that helped the fabric absorb the color. He loved doing this. It made him feel like he was truly contributing something. While he was prepping the muslin his father came in and began to dye a long bolt of silk. He had prepared this material himself, as silk was very precious and he didn't even trust Sable with its care. He was dunking it in the tub that was filled with a color called blue. Sable was able to distinguish the names of the different colors by their shades in the tub, but he still didn't always get them right. His father's apron would get stained, as would his long lean arms, but his face was so animated when he was plunging the fabric into the hot dyed water. He looked more alive doing this, his trade, than Sable had ever seen him. He used a long wooden rod to push the fabric about in great circles in the dye over and over, following an by now instinctual timing to know when to take it out.

Sable hung the muslin on one of the lower drying racks when he was finished, and looked to see his father drawing out the silk.

"Do you need a hand?" He asked.

"No, no," his father replied, waving him away, "the last thing we need is your skin inked up for when your Emissary arrives. You know how hard this is to get out, they'll never get you spotless in time."

He looked over his shoulder at Sable and shrugged, turning back to his task.

"Go ahead and start packing; that's all the work I want you doing for today."

Sable's heart plummeted, but he nodded and left the studio, leaving the strong stench of fresh dye behind him. Once in his room, he took a long time to fold the few articles of fine clothing he owned, along with quite a few practical ones and a few private possessions. He arranged them in his worn leather backpack, taking extra care to waste time on the buckles and ties before declaring it sound. He dropped down to sit on his mat, and took a few deep breaths. Now all that remained was to wait. It felt almost like waiting patiently for a wolf to come and bite him, with absolutely no way out.

(((

It was a surprisingly short time later that he heard a knock at their front door above the howling wind. He gulped, feeling his heart speed up. He knew he should get up, should go boldly out to meet the person who would be his caretaker for the entire wee. Instead he felt frozen, paralyzed by uncertainty and not a little by fear. He had to wait until his mother came to his door and ushered him out. Her gentle face eased his nerves enough for him to sling the backpack across his slender shoulders and shove himself up to his feet. She embraced him tightly then, making a small sound in her throat. He hugged her back just as tightly, wondering the entire while which one of them was trembling the most. At last she pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes, and she patted his cheek with a forced smile. Then she turned, and he followed her silent form back out into the kitchen, which was the main entrance.

A man was shaking hands with Sable's father when they entered. He must have cleaned up in quick time at the sound of the knock, even though he was still wearing his slightly spattered apron. The man looked very strong, with broad shoulders and large hands. Sable's father looked like a child beside him, regardless of the fact that he was not overly tall. Sable couldn't tell the color of his hair, but it was light, perhaps blond. His eyes, however were dark and deep, as were his brows. He did not appear to be gruff in manner, but his bulk suggested a sort of power. Sable noted quickly, though, that he had kind eyes.

"Ah, Sable!" His father said, as though greeting him after a long time apart. He came to Sable and put one arm around his shoulders, leading him over to the man. "Here he is, this is Sable."

The stranger was dressed in fine if simple clothes. They were not extraordinary in and of themselves, but Sable saw the intricate patterns woven and stitched onto the tunic, and the quality of the leather coat was far from lost on him. The man looked down at Sable with a blank expression, but his eyes remained warm as he held out one hand.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance on behalf of my client, Sarik Eres. I am Marcus."

His voice was mellow, calming, and Sable took his large hand, and shook it as firmly as he was able. One of Marcus's eyebrows went up slightly and he held onto Sable's hand for a second after the boy had let go. Sable didn't know what to make of it.

"Feel free to ask me anything that you want to know. I am here to care for you while you are away from home and I want you to feel comfortable with me. Think of me as your guardian for the next week."

"Thank you, sir." Sable answered. Marcus finally released his hand and drew out a little screen from an inside pocket in his coat.

" I just need one last signature before we can proceed."

"Of course." Sable's father said, gesturing to the kitchen table. Marcus placed the screen down and tapped a button on the side. The screen lit up, and he opened the file with a password before pointing to a signature line at the bottom of the digital document.

"Go ahead, then, son."

"What?" Sable turned uncomprehending eyes toward his father, who was nodding at the screen.

"Your name, lad. Sign your name."

Sable felt anger pitch in his stomach. He had to sign? In order to proceed? He could make or break this choice, and his father had never told him? He set his jaw, but his face was far from showing his anger. It was more like hurt that reflected there.

"Come along, Sable," Marcus said softly, "I'm sorry but we do have a schedule."

Sable bit his lip and stepped up to the table, taking the little pen that the Emissary handed him and letting it hover above the signature line for a brief second before signing his name in long, curling letters.

"That's it then," Sable's father said, as if relieved. "Off with you now, son."

A thick leather hat, lined with fur was pulled onto his head, the soft ear flaps muffling the sounds of the wind outside. Lean arms wrapped around Sable and hugged him. It was a father's hug; quick, tight, and proud. Sable could not find any comfort in it, but some part of him appreciated it regardless.

Marcus tucked the screen back into his hidden pocket and opened the door for Sable. The cold wind blew at once, bringing a dusting of snow with it. Outside, Sable caught sight of a beautiful carriage with a gleaming copper propulsion system and ornate designs on the metal-and-leather skin. The driver was sitting in the little glass booth on the front, waiting patiently with the control knobs in his hands. Sable went to the door slowly, feeling his heart rate increase with every step. When he reached Marcus, a sudden fear seized him and his entire body turned quickly to look back.

"Father!" He choked out, his voice pleading and lost. There was no room for it in his father's expression. It was stern, commanding, unmoving. Sable took a few audible breaths and had to blink back a few tears. There was no turning back. This was going to happen and there was no escaping it. With one more shuddering breath, he turned again, and walked out into the bitter cold.

He heard the door close behind him, and he was never so happy in his life for the cold wind as he was now, when he could blame his tears on its icy breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Sable's eyes were watering just as much on account of the wind as his aching heart. The short trip from the door of their house to the waiting carriage was enough for the bitter cold to tear at his cheeks and the tip of his nose. He reached the side of the carriage and stood there waiting for Marcus to open it for him. He was not sure how the vehicle operated, or even which of the multiple knobs and cranks might be the handle for the door.

As he heard the muffled crunch of the man's boots against the fallen snow, a heavy gust threatened to push him over. He nearly lost his balance and he stumbled. Instantly a strong hand helped steady Sable against the blast of wind. He was surprised that the man had reacted so swiftly, and that long arm remained around his shoulders.

"Easy there, lad, let's get you inside."

Marcus pulled on a brassy and opened the door. Quickly Sable climbed inside, and was immediately aware of the relief of no longer being in the harsh wind. He sat down on one side of the carriage, admitting to himself even through the twist in his gut that it was very fine. The seats were deep cushioned velvet, and a warm glow came from a heating and lighting unit embedded in the ceiling. Sable nearly winced as he sat down, hating the idea of dampening the cushion of the seat with the snow clinging to his coat. Marcus joined him inside, closing the door to finally block out the howl of the wind, and then he sat down opposite the boy.

"We're ready now." Marcus said into what looked like an ear trumpet to Sable, but he realized it must carry to the driver. A muffled sound of whirring reached his ears beneath the flaps of his hat, and the carriage began moving. He refused to look out of the thick windows to watch his home growing farther away. Instead he focused on his hands, rubbing them together and breathing on them as they went on.

"You alright, lad?" Marcus's deep voice asked him. Sable said nothing, but nodded shakily. He heard Marcus shift on his seat and the next moment large, oversized gloves landed in his lap. "Take those until you warm up for heaven's sake."

Sable now lifted his gaze to the man, who was looking at him with an expression that was somewhere between pity and amusement. Neither sentiment was one Sable felt he deserved at the moment. He glared slightly, unable to control his expression.

"I don't want them." He said flatly, tucking his hands under his arms, not touching the gloves in his lap.

"My arse you don't." Marcus said, his face turning slightly hard now. He stood up, took one step, and was tugging the gloves onto Sable's hands before the boy could protest. "Your hands were freezing long before I even arrived. They were ice cold when you shook my hand."

Sable's frown softened a bit as Marcus resumed his seat. Now he understood that odd look that had crossed the man's face, and why he had held onto his hand for longer than was necessary. Had he been trying to warm it up?

"Now just wear those until it warms up enough in here. Even after, if you really need them." Marcus was not looking at him as he spoke, but had taken the little screen from his pocket and was tapping it strategically with his fingers. Sable glanced down at his hands, swimming in the fleece-lined leather of the huge gloves. This Marcus seemed to be a fine balance of sweet and harsh. He supposed he could have had much, much worse.

"Now," Marcus said, interrupting his thoughts, "there are many options for where I shall be taking you to sight-see over the next few days. Kindly look over this list and choose four or five points of interest. This does not include meals; you can just chose those as the days unfold."

Marcus passed him the screen and Sable fumbled to take it with his gloved hands. He looked at the list of fine famous art galleries, parks, museums, historical and architectural sights, celebrity homes, etc. He clumsily scrolled down the list with his leather-clad pointer finger, and asked,

"So…you'll be taking me then?"

"Yes. Lord Eres is very busy, but even so he'll be spending the last day of your contract with you, after the night of your tryst."

Sable swallowed a bit, nodding to show he understood.

"You called him 'Lord Eres'. What does he do?" Sable asked after a few moments of silence, during which he watched the white world fly by out his window.

"He produces DragonSkin armor to our domestic military." Marcus said, "have you ever seen something made of DragonSkin?"

Sable nodded. DragonSkin, as its name suggested, was the outer skin shed by a dragon once every few weeks. It was extremely durable to the point that it had been used for everything from boots to luggage to armor. The use depended on the thickness of the skin itself. Some skins were thick enough through the scales to fashion outer protection for buildings if enough was available. Others were thin enough to sew into clothes or accessories. Sable had heard that DragonSkin was an expensive fashion statement in the cities.

"Once." Sable said, "a few years ago a man from Rauk was selling DragonSkin gauntlets in the market. It took him nearly two weeks to find a buyer because the price was so high, even though he always had people flooding by his stall to see them. I was one of the regular crowd; they were beautiful, even to me."

Marcus tilted his head slightly at Sable's comment.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked. Sable looked straight into his eyes, surprised. He couldn't tell if the man was bluffing or not, though he seemed sincere.

"Didn't my parents tell you? I thought for sure they would have."

"Told me what?" Marcus asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if he suspected an evil somewhere.

"I'm colorblind."

Marcus' eyes relaxed, and he shrugged, asking,

"Why would your parents feel the need to tell me about that? Is it important?"

Sable stared at the man, seeing him in a whole new light. He came from a completely different place, where something like colorblindness was apparently not a lifelong setback as it was here in Nardack, at least to the son of cloth dyers. To Sable, he might as well have come from a different planet.

"I don't think you understand how important it is to see colors when the family trade is specifically centered around that skill."

As Sable spoke, he saw realization dawn on Marcus' face.

"Ah…that's right, your family dyes cloth, correct?"

Sable nodded, and went back to staring at the list of attractions on the screen.

"That has to have been hard, especially in a village like yours." Marcus did not sound as though he were trying to get on Sable's good side; he truly seemed to understand.

"It is," Sable responded, "which is why my folks apparently think being boned by a stranger will solve all my problems."

Sable felt a surge of heat in his cheeks, unable to believe that the words had actually left him mouth. It had been what he was really thinking, and without his father around to berate him it had just slipped out. There was a silence before Marcus replied, his voice serious as he spoke slowly.

"Lord Eres…Sarik, I mean, is a very kind person. Of all the choices for your Marking, your parents could not have picked a gentler man."

Sable did not respond, and Marcus went on,

"The contract is binding, so I won't lecture you about the futility of having second thoughts now. I will say that you have been given a great opportunity here, and the best you can do is try and enjoy what you can of what it has to offer. If nothing else, enjoy the city. Trust me, there are some amazing sights to behold in Nueton. Make the best of it."

Sable took a deep breath. He knew what Marcus was saying was true, and a part of him took comfort in the fact that the man seemed so sure for him, while another part of him hated Marcus for not seeing how terrified he was. The next second a large hand was on his shoulder. He looked up, not even having realized that Marcus had come over to him again. He also realized that he was shaking.

Marcus' deep brown eyes were staring down into his own ice-grey almond-shaped ones, warm and reassuring as they had been in his family's kitchen.

"I know you're afraid, Sable, but I won't let you get hurt. I promise."

Sable wasn't sure what to make of this statement, considering the man's entire job was to ensure that he had relations with a complete stranger. And yet, Sable did believe him.

"Thanks." He said blandly, meaning it much more than his tone would suggest. Marcus seemed to know this by the squeeze he gave Sable's shoulder before seating himself once again.

"We'll be there in a little over an hour. If you get too bored there is an entertainment screen. You can watch what you like when you've finished choosing your locations of interest."

Sable glanced over at the large screen set into the wall above Marcus' seat.

"I don't know how to work one of those." He admitted, "No one in our village has electricity to spare for anything more than survival."

Marcus smiled genuinely at him.

"Truth be told, lad, that's the way to live."

Sable spent the better half of twenty minutes trying to decide between the various locations on the little screen, having to pick just one per day. It was a difficult decision when he read the descriptions of each place on the list. There was so much more to Nueton that he had not seen beyond the few yearly trips he made with his father to the giant metropolis. They had only been able to set up in the bizarre in the older section of the city, beneath the great towering heads of the innumerable buildings. Sable had always found the Old Section lively and comforting, while the rest of the city was a frightening but exciting unknown world of glamour, speed, and technology that his mind could not even begin to grasp. More than one city person had expressed to Sable and his father that they were still living in the Repressed Age with their tradersman-village lifestyle.

As if they could somehow change that at this point and adapt to a world that was so far beyond their ability to comprehend. Sable had heard over and over that his family, the Knights, had been dying cloth for generations, and there had been no need to change with the times, not where they lived. Apparently there had been a few cousins who had abandoned the trade to move to the city, and had with difficulty managed to integrate into the fast-paced flow of Nueton. Sable had never wanted to be like one of those relatives who were spoken of in disapproving tones, but he had felt the yearning every village child did at some point to explore the possibilities the city had to offer.

Sable's heart leapt a bit as he let this thought sink into him, erasing the thought of the Marking for a brief span of time as he began to grow excited about the locations he picked out. He was going to Inner Nueton…

Before his fear could pass over his excitement again, Marcus announced that they were about to arrive. Sable didn't want to look too eager, and certainly didn't want to look like a child, but he couldn't help inching even closer to his window and all but pressing his face against the glass to try and see through the snow. The sun had burned away enough in the air that he could make out the ground beneath them as they rushed over it, but there was still such a cloud that it was difficult to see. He knew that Nueton was beyond the ring of tall hills and mountains that bordered it. Even so far out as Nardack was he could sometimes make out the lights of Nueton behind them after sundown, showing their soft black silhouettes if it was a clear night.

Through the white cloud of swirling snow, a black wall suddenly seemed to appear through it and bar their way. Sable actually jumped back with a little yelp, and the blinding white light of the snow was extinguished. He panicked for a moment, not understanding, until he caught sight of all the lamps flying by. Just as he realized what had happened, Marcus spoke gently,

"We're just in a tunnel lad. That even threw me for a second because of the snow. Couldn't even see the hill until we were inside of it."

Sable found it hard to relax after such a fright, but looked out the window on the other side of the carriage and began to see the lights from other carriages, cars, and zoomers riding alongside them. Now he recognized this tunnel; his father and he had to travel through it on the far side, where a long stretch of the road was gated off for foot traffic like the villagers. The tunnel was flying by at such speed, however, that he barely realized that he knew where they were before the light of the snow blinded him again as they emerged into the lanes of traffic leading into the outer rim.

"I've never been past the first rim before." Sable said in a quiet voice. "Usually we just set up in the bizarre and…" He trailed off as he tried to focus on something, anything that he could identify. He was hoping to have that great view of Nueton with all its various buildings, but the snow was too thick.

"How do the drivers see in this?" He asked, the thought suddenly frightening him.

"Sensor technology." Marcus replied, without looking up from the screen he had taken back from Sable and was once more tapping at with his fingertips.

Sable was not about to admit that he had no idea what sensor technology was, but felt reassured by Marcus' relaxed and trusting attitude about the driver's ability not to crash their carriage.

For almost twenty minutes Sable tried to get a real glimpse of the cityscape, but the snow was obscuring all the taller buildings and they were now themselves in the thick of the city. He did have plenty to look at; the crowded streets, incredible storefronts, the feet of giant monuments that he could barely make out through the blizzard. Even so, it strained his eyes and after a time he just sat back and waited. Eventually he felt the carriage rock to a gentle stop, and Marcus looked up from the screen.

"Here we are. You might be able to see the front of the place before you go inside, if you look hard. Even with this snow I think it should be visible up close." Marcus winked at him and then opened the door, stepping out first. Sable slipped his hat back on, tying the ear flaps down and followed cold here was no less intense than his home, but without the harsh wind which was blocked by the tall buildings. He could hear it roaring high above his head, and tilted back to stare up at the blank white sheet of swirling snow that hid the tops of the high buildings. He could only faintly see the lowest rises through his blinking eyes, dark at their bases and then fading up into nothingness.

"You can stare later, lad, I promise." Marcus said with a chuckle, guiding him forward with a hand on his back. "There will be much more to see when the snow lets up."

Sable then looked at the building in front of which they had stopped. It was more of a house really. A more beautiful house than Sable had ever seen before. It was crafted in the older style of homes, with tall pillars and swirling masonry designs. The roof looked to be peeked rather than flat, which spoke of antiquity. Sable briefly wondered what color it was as he was ushered toward the door.

Marcus let him carry his own bag, but walked him through the front door. Sable had been expecting rich surroundings, and he was not disappointed. The carpet was so plush beneath his favored boots that he felt guilty, just as he had when he had sat on the cushion in the carriage. The front hallway was lined with intricately-framed mirrors, and Sable had to blink at the sight of such a simple Nardathian boy in oversize gloves and a worn leather hat walking into such a tall and grand entrance. The ceiling towered over Sable, and everywhere he looked here small but expensive decorations or furnishings.

At that moment a shorter, well-dressed older man emerged from an unexpected door made to look like part of the wall. Sable jumped a bit and the man barely gave him a second glance as he at once spoke to Marcus.

"Welcome back, Marcus." He said, only then letting his eyes fall deliberately on Sable and looking him up and down, not unkindly, as he asked, "I trust your journey went well?"

"As well as it could without any scenery to entertain." Marcus replied, shedding his coat and all but tossing it at the man. Sable was slightly shocked, but then the man reached out an arm to him, waiting. Sable stared at him, then looked to Marcus, who was shaking his head to relieve his hair of snow that had crept in beneath his hood.

"Give him your coat, Sable, that's his job."

Sable slowly eased his bag off his shoulder and had to slip Marcus' gloves off before he could get out of his sleeves. The man took them from him before he had offered, and then he pulled off his coat and handed it to the man, who took it with an amused expression.

"Thanks." Sable muttered, unused to anyone ever taking responsibility for his own things.

"Your quite welcome, sir." The man replied.

"Just Sable's fine." Sable said, quickly picking up his bag and donning it once again, "No one's ever called me 'sir' in my life."

"If you insist." The man said.

"Sable, this is Jor. He keeps the house for Lord Eres. If you ever want or need anything, just tell him. He's here to serve you."

Sable's intensely uncomfortable look didn't seem to disturb Jor or Marcus, and the latter turned to him and said,

"We'll be eating lunch in a half-hour. Jor will show you to your room and you can relax until then. I'll come to get you when it's ready. Feel free to change into something more comfortable if you wish."

Sable nodded to show that he understood, and then Marcus walked forward, down the huge front hallway to a doorway on one side, and disappeared. Jor smiled at him.

"Follow me then, sir."

Sable felt too timid to remind the man that he didn't want to be called anything but his given name, and simply followed him. The hallway branched to the right and left ahead, and they went left and Sable found himself in a huge hall with a spiral staircase in the center. He had thought that the front hallway was big, but it was only half the size of this magnificent room. Keeping up with Jor up the staircase was difficult when he was trying to crane his neck to see every detail he could. It was impossible to take in all at once and he was once again bewildered to think that his parents could have afforded this kind of accommodation.

He was actually relieved when his room was revealed to be large, but not so huge that he felt he could get lost, like most of the other rooms they had walked through to get there. The ceiling was tall, something that he still had to get used to, and the walls were richly patterned. For the countless' time in his life he wished he could see how color added to the beauty around him. His bed was four times larger than his little mat at home. He just caught himself from asking if it was a real mattress before realizing how ignorant he would sound. Of course it was a real mattress.

Jor left him alone, thankfully quickly to let him settle in, and Sable at once shucked his boots and sweater, shivering a bit through his thinner undershirt. He could not resist the urge to sit on his bed first of all. He closed his eyes slowly as he sunk into the mattress, again unable to fathom how incredible everything was. The next second he had stood up and was walking to a door on the other side of the room. It was his very own bathroom. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. All they had back home was a little closet with a dingy seat and tub that poured out cold water. Here was a marble-floored room with a pristinely white tub and even a shower. Sable was already feeling a huge surge of longing to give it a try; he had never used a real shower before. He almost felt dirty standing there, staring at his reflection in the long mirror above the counter and sink.

He decided that could wait. A half-hour was hardly enough time for him to indulge as he now really wanted to, and he would rather stay up late into the night than rush through this luxury now. He returned to his bed and flopped over onto it, grinning like a child. Despite the circumstances, he realized he would have to be an absolute idiot not to be giddy inside. It was all too beautiful, too rich, and he was going to enjoy it for an entire week. Unbelievable.


	4. Chapter 4

How on earth could his parents afford this? The question refused to give him a moment's peace all through the lavish luncheon he shared with Marcus. To Sable, lunch meant a slice of bread with perhaps some butter and salt to flavor it, swallowed down midday before returning to school or work. It was no more than fuel to keep the gnawing ache in his stomach down to a minimum. Here, in the house of a dragon, lunch meant fine dishes, three courses, and waiters. Sable wished he could just relax and enjoy the atmosphere, but he was so uncomfortable with anyone waiting on him, and felt like he should have money to tip them for their services. Even in his village people always managed to scrounge up enough to pay for whatever they were given. Despite his discomfort, his taste buds would have had to be dead for him not to appreciate the food.

He couldn't believe how much meat there was; chicken in the salad, pork in the soup, beef in the main dish. Meat was not hard to come by back home, just expensive. It was a luxury that his family enjoyed sparingly whenever business was good enough. Which brought him back to that question; how could they afford this?

"What's bothering you, son?"

Marcus' voice snapped Sable back to reality, and he looked up apologetically. The man's warm eyes were watching him knowingly. Sable wished he knew what color they were.

"Nothing, sir." Sable lied.

"You're going to have to do better than that around me, kid." Marcus said, his expression amused, "I've been doing this job for a long time, and I didn't get to be here by swallowing transparent lies. If you've any concerns, spit them out."

His words were kind, and made Sable smile a bit before he sighed.

"I'm just…It's all so much for me to fathom. This place, this food…and…what's going to be done to me. But in reality…I just don't see how my parents could afford any of this, even with the money they had saved. The way I see it, they just may have been able to save enough for my Marking, even by a dragon. It's this week-long accommodation that seems beyond our means. I can't understand it."

Marcus took a short sip of white wine, remaining silent for some time. It seemed to Sable that he was choosing his words carefully, only making the boy more suspicious that there was something the emissary was not telling him.

"I'm going to be honest with you right now," Marcus finally commented, "life is cruel. I don't think you need me telling you that, after seeing where you're from and how hard you and your family work. It's a hard fight to the end regardless of where you come from or where you intend to go. With every blessing there is a price, and with every tragedy there is new growth. That's why," Marcus leaned forward a bit to be sure Sable was listening, "when life throws you a bone, you don't worry about what died to provide it; you reach out and take it, and be thankful for the sacrifice."

Sable understood exactly what Marcus was telling him, but he couldn't help but feel like the man had dodged around the question. Very artfully too, the boy thought.

"Everyone keeps telling me to be thankful," Sable all but grumbled, stirring the soup with his silver spoon, "and I'm trying to be. With everything that's in me, I'm trying. It's just all so sudden and unreal…"

"I understand, Sable. Trust me; I'm an Emissary. I see it all the time. Not to mention that I was in a similar position when I was young."

Sable lifted his head to look at the man, incredulous.

"You were marked too?"

"Not very obvious, is it?" Marcus smiled, leaning back in his seat. "Once I was on the road to my current position, I decided I no longer needed the mark that 'defined me'."

Marcus brushed back a piece of his long hair on one side, and Sable could see where a shorter strip was hiding underneath. It was cut short, almost against the scalp, but Sable could see that it was a different shade than the rest of Marcus' hair.

"What color is it?" Sable asked, trying not to stare.

"That would be all you want to know, wouldn't it?" Marcus chuckled, "Everyone else always asked whose mark it was, but you are just curious about the color. When visible, it is a dark blue."

"Why do you cut it?" Sable asked, "I thought the sign of a Marking was important to show off."

Marcus took another sip of wine, swirling it in his glass. Sable had never seen someone drink with such grace, but then again there was not much alcohol for the taking in his village, except for medicinal purposes. He had heard that in the city people would drink so much that they would stumble around and act like fools.

"My Marking did secure me a good position," Marcus said, "but once I had been established as an Emissary for a number of years, it was my own merits that propelled me forward. So one day I made the decision to hide my mark. It surprised the people who knew me, but because of my job security, I don't have to worry about my status lowering because it is no longer visible."

Sable was silent, staring once again into the delicious-smelling soup that he had nearly finished.

"What was the point of being Marked if you were just going to cover it up?" He asked quietly, almost feeling angry at Marcus. It was as if he had made it blatantly obvious that Marking was a waste of time.

"I didn't need to coast along on the success my mark gave me once I acquired my current position." Marcus repeated, his tone suggesting that he was a bit irritated that Sable had not understood him. "Sarik is my employer now, and unless I drop dead I'm going to work for him until I can't any longer. There is no need to rely on my mark anymore. Do you see?"

"I suppose." Sable muttered.

"Look, lad, I know what's going on in that head of yours; I'm not saying that being Marked is a pointless move, because it most certainly is not. I have no idea how long it would have taken me to get to where I am now if it were not for my own Marking. Most likely I would not have become an Emissary at all. The Mark opens the doors, and after you've walked through enough of them, you've earned the right to stand on your own two feet."

The waiters returned to take away what was left of their soup and replace it with beef over rice. Sable let the subject at hand drop as they started in on the new course. Before either of them had taken two bites, Jor appeared.

"Sir Marcus," he said, bowing, "Lord Eres has returned and wishes to see you in his study when convenient."

"Thank you, Jor."

Sable felt a wave of panic sweep over him. He had known, or at least some part of him had registered, that this was Sarik's house, but he had not really thought about the possibility of accidentally running into him face-to-face. He drew in a sharp breath involuntarily, and Marcus glanced up at him.

"Don't look so frightened, lad." He said, standing up and tossing his napkin on the table, "it's against his principles to cross paths with a Ward before the night of a Marking. Otherwise you'd have seen him by now."

Sable relaxed slightly, but still felt a nagging fear that refused to leave him. It was like knowing that a phantom was hiding somewhere in this big, strange house, that wanted to avoid him as much as he did it, but might still appear if he was not careful.

A large hand landed on his shoulder, and Marcus looked down at him almost sternly.

"Try mustering up a smile or two once in a while, eh, Sable? You look downright grim."

Sable smiled weakly, and Marcus gave him a critical glance.

"We'll have to work on that." He said, "In the meantime, finish your meal and then Jor will see you back to your room. If you have any questions, just use the screen in your room to call one of us. Even you should be able to figure that out."

Sable fought the urge to call Marcus back as he left through the tall windowed doors that led out of the dining area. While he was confident enough in himself to be left alone in a strange place, he couldn't help but feel a little abandoned.

He turned his attention back to his last course, and took time to savor the meat. He let the flavor wipe his mind of his worries for a time, closing his eyes in delight. It was true what his mother used to say, back when she still spoke freely and happily, 'food has a way of making everything alright for a while'.

)))

A knock on the grand oak door made the tall figure at the desk sit up straighter. His shoulders were broad, his physique larger than the average man, and his hair cascaded down to his shoulders. At the sound of the knock, he turned a regal head toward the door briefly before calling,

"Come in, Marcus."

The door opened and Marcus entered.

"Welcome back, Lord Eres." He said, strolling over to the desk. "How was the trip?"

They shook hands with a familiarity that spoke of many years of compatriotism, and then the dragon answered him,

"Very productive; nine more Northling youngsters recruited for the DragonSkin industry. Good, new hides of fresh colors. They should be very profitable for themselves and the market."

Marcus leaned his hip against the corner of the sturdy desk, and crossed his arms, looking closely at his employer.

"If that's true," Marcus said, with a knowing grin, "then why the heavy shoulders?"

Lord Eres shook his head.

"You know me too well, my friend. Has anyone ever told you that your powers of perception are positively ethereal?"

Marcus looked thoughtful for a few playful seconds before saying,

"Once or twice."

They shared a good-natured smile and then Lord Eres rose from his chair and walked over to the tall window beside it. Marcus joined him as he stared out over the swirling white veil that was the view. Every now and again a strong gust of wind separated the blizzard's folds and revealed the wall of a neighboring skyscraper. The next second the dusky curtain would be swept back into place by the wind's strong, cold hand.

"I'm just concerned about the effect this weather will have on production."

"Not a lot of shedding when it's not warm enough, eh?" Marcus commented. "Why don't you all just sit under a heat lamp?"

Lord Eres chuckled.

"If only it were that simple. I'm afraid our molting processes are a little more complex than that."

"Well, sir, it's not unusual for the business to suffer a bit during this time of year, right? Our last shipment to the military was only a few months ago, so it's not like the contract will make you deliver more skins before spring."

The tall figure nodded gracefully.

"I know this, but I cannot help but worry. It is rumored that there is unrest in the south. If any kind of battle breaks out, the armies will need to be clad in our armor."

"That's a bit of a pessimistic outlook, don't you think?" Marcus said, "It's not like we're on the brink of war. Why not turn your mind to other things?"

"Like what?" Lord Eres asked, turning to look at Marcus. In his angled face Marcus saw a slight hint of desperation for an answer, a break, a distraction.

"Your latest Ward for one." Marcus said, turning and walking away from the dragon. "I brought him just this morning."

"Ah, yes," Lord Eres said, his tone lighter, "this is the one from the plains, correct?"

Marcus was seating himself in one of the deep chairs along the wall of the study, and made a contented sound before answering,

"All the way out in Nardack, Sarik. He's the son of a tradesman."

Lord Eres joined Marcus, sitting in the chair across from him.

"What is he like?"

"Timid, shy, and undeniably poor." Marcus answered honestly. "The lad doesn't even know how to use an entertainment screen. The walls of his house were so thin that his hand was freezing when I first shook it. I'm telling you, Sarik, he's definitely a fish out of water. I don't think you'll find him anything like the spoiled brats you usually have to bed."

Lord Eres snorted, but looked intrigued.

"While I do my duty as any other member of my clan, I do feel the need for a surprise every now and again, at least in this aspect of my business. Sultry, snobbish virgins have made it hard to be kind when it comes to the Markings. They may be virgins in body, but they think they know exactly how the process works in their filthy little minds."

"Well, either that or they are scared to the point where you feel like a rapist." Marcus commented, parrying back the sentiments he had heard from his friend before. Lord Eres nodded with feeling, rubbing his temple with the tips of long fingers.

"Why do you think my Marks have been so thin of late?"

Marcus grinned, showing his white teeth.

"I have noticed that. Those Wards are starting to walk out of here with barely a pencil-strip of your color in their hair. I thought perhaps it was stress."

"No," Lord Eres said, "it's because there is no connection anymore. It used to be, that Ward and Marker would form a bond between their initial meeting and the tryst. It was special, something that went beyond the money that had put them both there. This is why my kind became involved in the ancient days; it was a sacred union that blessed the Ward and the Marker alike. Now, however," the dragon sighed, shaking his head, "I fear the ceremony has become so streamline, so advertized, that one day, it just won't be enough."

"Wow, just look at that," Marcus whistled, "I try to take your mind off your worries, and you find a way to stir up a different set of problems."

"I'm afraid there is more than one issue concerning me lately. It is no fault of yours."

"Well, as I told your current Ward, try putting on a smile! He's pretty nervous about you, you know. Kid's scared out of his wits that he'll be crushed beneath all this luxury."

Lord Eres looked curious, his face softening at Marcus' words.

"I wondered how a child of Nardack would adapt to Nueton, when you first brought the proposal to me."

"He may be the son of a cloth dyer in a small village, but the kid's no idiot." Marcus said, crossing his legs before him and leaning deeper into the chair. "He's been driving himself mad trying to understand how he got here. He's well aware that his parents couldn't afford his accommodation."

"Yes, well," Lord Eres mimicked his friend's posture, sighing gently in comfort, "you know the terms of the third party; he's not to be told. Just try and get him to enjoy himself in the next few days, that's what you're being paid for, and apparently that's what the boy deserves. What was his name, again?"

"Sable."

"And his last name?"

"Knight."

Lord Eres looked thoughtful, mulling the name over in his head and trying to understand why it sounded familiar.

"A fine name…for a cloth dyer."

"He doesn't actually dye cloth, Sarik." Marcus corrected.

"Why is that? You said he was the son of-"

"He's colorblind. From what I saw, his father does all of the actual color mixing, and Sable…I'm not really sure what Sable's role is in the family business."

The dragon clucked his tongue at Marcus, raising an eyebrow at him mischievously.

"You do remember that you're an Emissary, right?" He teased his friend, "Ask him about it at dinner. Make him more comfortable by letting him talk about what is familiar to him. His home, friends, schooling, etc."

"Don't need to tell me how to do my job." Marcus said with a grin, "I think I can handle myself."

"Always remember," Lord Eres warned, cocking his other eyebrow as well, "the quietest Wards are always the most passionate."

"That sounds like something that you need remember, more than me, my friend." Marcus said, winking. The two men chuckled together like the old friends that they were.

"As always, I shall handle Sable with care and kindness."

"See that you do." Marcus said, getting out of his chair and heading toward the door, "He's special in more ways than one, even I can see that and I've only known him a few hours."

Lord Eres waved him off,

"They're all special in themselves, Marcus, but not to me. I may treat them all gently, but very few have ever come across as more deserving than the others. With all due respect to our little Nardathian, I don't think I'll ever be convinced otherwise."

Marcus shrugged.

"Who knows? Perhaps he'll change your mind."

The man left then, the oak door echoing as it closed. Lord Eres tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, his mind pulling up a memory of Marcus bringing him a file with a money amount and a very specific set of conditions attached to it. That was several months ago, and it was when he had first heard the name Sable Knight.

"Perhaps he may, after all."


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner was even more spectacular than the luncheon had been; full, juicy steaks with potatoes, vegetables, and a variety of lighter sides. Sable feared that a few more days of this and he might find himself sick with all the food. He was afraid all the meat would ruin him for his home life where there was so little. He was feeling more relaxed after having passed the afternoon fiddling with the entertainment screen in his room. It amazed him how there were so many different channels with such a variety of entertainment and information. He had found a stunningly-filmed documentary on a kind of seahorse found in the western ocean, and he had sat on his bed and watched it in fascination. He had always loved learning when there was something of visual interest to accompany the information, and he wondered how having access to this kind of device could change his schooling. He only attended on a hit-or-miss basis. He knew how to read and write quite well and had a mastery of general topics, but specific facts seemed to flow right out his brain and float away to some unreachable place. He never drilled himself enough to learn more than he needed, but he found that information in the form of a film lodged in his brain.

"I found something I liked on the screen." Sable volunteered as he and Marcus ate together.

"Oh? And what was that?" Marcus asked.

Sable went on to explain the premise of the documentary, and the main points he had found interesting. As he spoke he saw Marcus' face turning up in a smile. His voice faded.

"Something wrong, lad?"

"You look like you're laughing at me." Sable said. Marcus shook his head.

"Not for the reasons you think, Sable. I was just thinking how you look so much more engaged than I've seen you before."

"To be honest, that show did engage me very much. I like pictures in books so I can see what I'm reading about, and I've hardly seen any films before."

Marcus hummed to himself and took a bite of steak, his hum changing to one of deep satisfaction. Sable followed suit, imitating him playfully. Marcus grinned and swallowed slowly.

"I'm glad to see you've lightened up a bit, lad. So, I have a question for you; do you help your father dye cloth, or do you have another job in the family business?"

Sable expression fell into a nostalgic, and yet guarded one as he answered,

"I told you that I'm colorblind, so I can't help father with the actual color dying; it's just too much trouble for him to sit there and tell me what to do and what to mix in when he can just do it himself in half the time. From what he says, he mixes them differently each time, based on what color he wants to end up with, and I would have no knowledge of how to do that. But I have a talent for selecting the right kinds of fabric. Mostly I prep the fabric I buy, washing it and hanging it to dry. I also help to cut different lengths to sell, and set up the dying bins and drains." Sable shrugged his shoulders, "Basically I help out with everything that doesn't require color theory. Unfortunately, that's the greatest aspect of our business; you can select and prep the best fabric available, but people won't buy it unless it is beautiful."

Marcus listened to Sable carefully as he spoke, his empty fork held in his hand, forgotten.

"Doesn't that ever get frustrating?" Marcus asked, "Doing all the grunt work and never finding a place in the heart of the business?" Sable looked uncomfortable, and the man softened and added, "I'm not going to run to your father and repeat every work you say to me, you know. Please, speak of your feelings. Think of me as your confidant."

Sable took another bite of potatoes as he thought on Marcus' words. When he had finished, he took a small breath.

"I've never spoken about this to anyone." He began, staring at Marcus with eyes that clearly conveyed his need for secrecy.

"You don't need to if you'd rather not." Marcus reminded him, taking a sip from his glass. Sable shook his head.

"No, now that you've given me that chance I…I think it will be good for me."

"Go on, then."

Sable hesitated one last time, and then launched ahead.

"I'm always a hindrance. I work as hard as I can, but I'll never truly contribute because I'm disabled. I can't perform the art that has been the lifeblood of my family for generations. I am my parent's only son. It is my job to carry on the art, and without my sister alive, I'm afraid that no one will be able to fulfill that duty."

He stopped to catch his breath, seemingly surprised at the vehemence in his own voice. He continued, more quietly,

"And I'm helpless to do anything to change. I fail because I cannot perceive the world as others do. I have no control over that! Yet my father…my father acts as though I chose to disappoint him. I love him dearly, and he doesn't mistreat me. But there are times when he pushes me so far that I…I just wish I was old enough to leave, to find my own profession. I can't help him with the dying, but he won't let me be apprenticed anywhere else. I feel trapped. There is no possibility of making him proud, even after giving my body to a total stranger I'll bet you he won't treat me any different. And my mother has lost the will to challenge him…she can't even speak to defend me."

"Your mother is mute?" Marcus asked, cocking his head. "I thought she was just shy, or being respectful."

Sable shook his head, poking at his vegetables with his fork.

"She stopped speaking when my little sister was killed."

Marcus became very still, and closed his eyes slowly.

"I am sorry, Sable. I was unaware that you had lost a sibling."

"It's alright," Sable said, taking a bite of his vegetables, "I didn't expect you to have a complete history of my family or anything. Besides, I'm so used to being aware of her absence that I assume everyone knows."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we never talk about it. My mother won't talk, and my father…I think he is still in too much pain. Since we never talk about her…it somehow makes her being gone much worse."

"What was her name?" Marcus asked softly.

"Ebony."

"Did she have black hair like yours?"

Sable smiled, replying,

"Yes. It's a longstanding tradition in the Knight family to name their children after a color. Both Ebby and I had the same shade of hair from what I could tell, but her name made more sense. Apparently Sable is a…I think it's called brown…ish…color? So the name doesn't really suit me since my hair is such a dark black. That I can tell, since I only see in grayscale." Sable's smile softened as he said, "When Mother put a ribbon in Ebby's hair I could always tell how dark hers was because it stood out so starkly."

There was a pause, and Marcus began wondering more and more why a boy like this wound up here. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a bit and asked,

"Would you consider it prying if I asked you how she passed away?"

"A bit, but how else would you find out if not asking?" Sable said lightly, taking a drink from his glass and smacking his lips lightly. "It was only two years ago. My whole family traveled to a city in the west for an annual week-long trade market."

"Ah, you're speaking of Dersk?"

"That's right. I'd never been allowed to go with my father before when he went, and this time he decided that it would be a good trip to make as a family. Ebby was almost five, and she was as excited as I was. Do you know about the parade?"

"Yes," Marcus replied promptly, "once the week of trading is over and all the stands are packed away the city holds a celebratory parade through the streets where the market took place."

"Right. Well, we were all off to the side, enjoying the moving displays and the noise. My father had little Ebby on his shoulders, and had managed to get a great spot in the front of the crowd. At one point Ebby saw one of the men who were handing out sweets as they walked by, and she had my father put her down so she could wave. The man who came up to her must have been someone important; he was well-dressed and his shoes were shiny."

Sable faltered for a moment, taking a deliberately slow breath and swallowing before continuing,

"He…he bent down to let her reach into his basket of sweets…and…someone shot him."

Marcus's brow narrowed.

"What?"

"Someone shot the man, and…the bullet went right through him…" Sable cleared his throat roughly, "…and hit Ebby."

The man's lips parted as he drew in a sharp breath.

"Someone…tried to assassinate him, and ended up killing Ebony?" He asked slowly.

"Yea," Sable swallowed a gulp of water. "It, um…it was… terrible. The bullet went right into her forehead. She was dead before she even knew she didn't get her sweets."

"And the man?" Marcus asked, his voice sounding odd. Sable looked up at him for the first time since his tragic story had begun. Marcus must have caught the surprise in his face, so he clarified, "I just…I think I actually heard about this incident. Did the man survive?"

Very slowly, Sable nodded.

"That's what I heard. He actually paid for Ebby's burial. She had pink roses on her coffin. I was told they were pink, anyway…I don't remember ever hearing his name. I can't even remember his face now."

Marcus was silent, his eyes cast down but his eyebrows bent in such a way that suggested he was thinking hard. After a long time, he seemed to realize how quiet the room was, and cleared his throat.

"You have truly had a difficult life, Sable. I am glad that at least for a few days I can treat you to an unforgettable experience."

Sable smiled weakly.

"I didn't mean to bring the conversation down…I'm sorry."

Marcus scoffed, and then chuckled.

"You're remarkable, lad."

Sable was glad that the nosedive in his talk with Marcus had picked up during dessert. He had never tasted cheesecake before, and he was struck by how rich and creamy it was, for something that was called 'cake'. After the meal ended, Marcus escorted him back to his room and they said goodnight. Sable was feeling tired, and anxious to try out the shower he had seen in the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind him and began stripping off his clothes, tossing them all onto the bed. The light in the bathroom came on as he entered, and he quickly located the various knobs. As he stood before them, however, he realized he had no idea which knob did what. There were about five in all. He shifted from foot to foot, and finally he turned one at random. Instantly a white foamy liquid shot out from the ceramic wall on either side of him, coating his hair. He gave a cry and turned the knob again, the foam ceasing at once.

He was afraid now to try the other knobs, and stood there with the foam slowly liquefying and running down his head and neck. He turned to look for a cabinet or shelf that might be stocked with towels. He saw none, and wondered what kind of bathroom didn't come with towels. Then he remembered what Marcus had told him earlier. He made his way out into the bedroom, and turned on the screen. A menu came up, and he scanned it carefully until he found a tag that read 'guest assistance'. He tapped it with his fingertip. A message came up, reading, 'stand by'. A few seconds later an image of Jor appeared on the screen.

"How may I help you, sir?" He asked, then did a very subtle double-take, and Sable realized he could see him. He must look an idiot, standing there naked with foam coating his hair. He had never been shy about his body, growing up in a village with other boys his age who would swim nude all through the summer together, he could have cared less about being seen without his clothes. It was more the overall situation that he found embarrassing.

"Um, hi…" Sable said nervously, "I…um…I tried to turn on the shower and I…don't know how it works."

Jor gave a hairline grin, and bowed his head.

"If you will wait just a moment, sir, I'll be up to assist you momentarily."

"Thank you so much." Sable said, and then the screen returned to the menu. He closed his eyes in humiliation and quickly slipped back into his undershorts so he could at least appear to have a concept of modesty. It was less than five minutes before there came a knock on his door. He answered it, and Jor came in, avoiding his gaze with all the suaveness expected of a household such as this.

"Allow me to show you the controls, sir." Jor said, and Sable wanted to tell him to use his first name, but he realized that it would most likely be useless. Jor led him back into the bathroom, where the foam that had come off of him still lay near the drain in the floor. Jor reached out and began pointing at the individual knobs. "This first one is for volumizing foam; it is for those with thin hair who wish to style it. I believe this is the one you must have tried."

Sable nodded, unable to keep from grinning as Jor did.

"This next one is for cleansing shampoo, and this one is for conditioner."

"Conditioner?" Sable asked quietly, afraid to show just how much of a bumpkin he was, but genuinely wanting to know. Jor answered patiently, as if he always explained the obvious.

"It is a special kind of cream that is worked into the hair to make it smooth and soft. If you have never used it, I would recommend you give it a try."

"Thanks." Sable said, and unable to wait, asked, "So, there is a water knob in here somewhere, right?"

Jor smiled politely, and nodded.

"Of course, sir. These last two knobs control hot and cold water. The left is cold, the right is hot. You can turn them as you wish to find your ideal temperature."

"Wonderful. And um…where are the towels?"

Jor did not answer, but turned and led Sable to what looked like another shower directly beside the first, separated by a wall. This shower was lined with what looked like large, round vents.

"When you are finished washing, simply stand in here, and turn this metal knob."

"I don't…so…there aren't any towels?" Sable asked, confused.

"Just do as I've instructed, and I assure you, drying off will not be a problem."

Sable stared at him blankly, and the man bowed slightly and left. The boy decided to shrug off the mysterious drying process and focus on taking his first shower. He shucked out of his undershorts and stood before the knobs, this time turning the right one. Instantly a shower of warm water began to beat against his body from the ceiling. He laughed a bit, until the water grew too hot, and he quickly turned the left knob, and the heat decreased to a manageable level. He was elated. The water coursing over his body felt incredible, unlike anything he had felt before. The swimming holes where he and his friends went didn't have any waterfalls, but he had always wanted to stand beneath one. This was as close as he had ever come to that dream. He revealed in how much cleaner he felt with the water cascading off of him, taking with it the sweat of the day. It was so much better than a bath, where you were submerged in your own diluted filth. Of course, Sable never took full baths except in the summer, as the water at home was always too cold and leant itself to just a quick but thorough scrubbing with a bar of soap and a cloth.

He tilted his head back and let the water caress him, cling to him, run down his body. He loved it, and wondered how on earth he was going to live without this once he returned home. He tossed the though aside, and enjoyed the hot water, letting it wipe his mind clean as well as his body, taking him to a calming place. He turned the knobs for shampoo, and loved the fresh scent, and when he used the conditioner he was amazed at how silky his hair felt beneath his fingers.

When he had finally decided that he needed to get out or his fingers would become prunes, he switched the water off entirely. He stripped the water from his limbs, feeling fresher than he had in a long time. He was also more tired, though, the water having completely relaxed him. He then entered the mysterious 'drying' space. He stood in the center, and as instructed, reached out to turn the knob. At once warm air was blowing against him from every wall. He jumped at the loud hum emitting from the vent-like spots lining the walls, obviously the source of the wind. He turned the knob further to the right, and the air blew stronger. He smiled, grinning like a fool and spreading out his limbs where he stood, letting the air blow his skin dry. He helped it along by rubbing against the damp areas after a few moments, but finally he felt he was dry, and turned the knob off. Silence fell over the bathroom again, and Sable walked carefully out to the bedroom. He had to walk carefully because he felt so relaxed that he was afraid his legs would not support him. When he reached the bed he saw a white robe lying across the mattress. He slipped into it and sighed deeply; it was deep and plush, the softest garment he had felt in his life.

Sable could barely keep his eyes open, and so he switched off the lamp beside the bed and slipped beneath the covers, yawning. He ran his hand over the sleeve of the robe a few times, thinking that perhaps they were all right; whatever his feelings about the Marking, he could at least…enjoy himself. With that thought, he drifted off into a deeper sleep than he had ever thought was possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Morning dawned bright and clear, giving Sable quite a view when he pulled back his long curtains. He was now able to take in the cityscape in its entirety. It was more than impressive, making the house they were in feel like a tiny rock amidst vast boulders. Sable's mouth dropped slowly open as he inched his face as near the glass of the window as he could manage, and tilted his head back to the same degree. The towering buildings were of various metals, stones, and bricks, but while the materials were relatively common the architecture strayed from the norm. He saw several styles of building that looked more like an interpretive painting in 3d form, and he wondered at how they could have been built at all. He had seen these reaching structures of course when he and his father came here for the annual street fair, but as that had been in the older district; the view of the main jungle of modern buildings had only ever been seen from a distance. The old district itself was vast, pushing back the mainstream society by several miles.

Once Sable had finished gawking at the view, he went to the elaborately carved dresser and opened the top drawer. When he had unpacked the night before all of his things fit nicely into that one drawer with room to spare. It served to remind him, as everything here did, that he had very little. He pulled out his nicest pair of pants, which were still a bit worn, and the new sweater that he had discovered in his bag. His mother must have woven it for him; it was designed after the city fashions, and she must have spent months making it. She was wonderful at the loom, and it had brought in quite a bit of money over the years, but this was by far some of her best work. And it was his. He had discovered a small note from her attached to the front, simply reading, 'blue'. Obviously she must have thought that this color would suit him. He decided to wear it for this, his first day of touring this enormous city.

Once he had dressed, he cautiously opened his door and poked his head out. Despite being told that measures had been taken to be sure that he and Sarik did not cross paths, he was still wary. This was Sarik's house after all, and he was sure to go where he wanted within it. Sable stepped out of his doorway. While the house was not overly decorated, exquisite detail had been put into every aspect of what was there. The walls were painted with elegant designs, all the wood in the house was polished to a gleam, and the windows were incredibly tall to let in light to see it all.

Sable noticed that the house looked so much different in the sun. All the drapes had covered the windows when they had arrived the day before, and now the place seemed so much bigger than it was, and it was already the largest house Sable had been inside. The ceiling was the main wonder to him. It was so tall, leaving so much open space that Sable felt he could breathe easier. He had never minded living in such a small house back home, but he could see why some people would be smothered living where he did.

As he turned a corner he nearly ran into Jor, only solidifying his belief that there was just no possible way for him to be around the man without feeling awkward.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized at once, but Jor merely waved a dismissive hand at him, that small smile gracing his lips. Sable could never tell what the servant was really thinking, and it made him uncomfortable. On one hand Jor might be fond of him, on the other those smiles could mean 'you backwater hick, I can't believe you're here in my master's house.' While he was still a servant, Sable had the impression that he was somewhat uppity due to the wealth of his master. This intuition became stronger when Jor looked pointedly down at his feet, raising an eyebrow.

"Sir, may I ask why you are not wearing your shoes?"

Sable glanced down briefly at the ugly thick socks that encased his feet. He wiggled his toes unconsciously, and looked up again.

"I…um…the carpet is so nice I didn't want to walk on it with my boots. They got pretty muddy yesterday."

"I see." Was Jor's response, his expression never shifting away from that mild politeness that discomforted Sable with its ambiguity. Sable had genuinely felt guilty that his shoes were stepping on the rich patterned carpets that clung to the floor, and he had heard that fine houses like this one normally required anyone who entered to remove their shoes at the door. Looking back on it he was surprised that this had not been the case when he arrived.

"I was just coming to fetch you," Jor said moving them past the awkward subject of his bare feet, "so this is a nice coincidence. Come with me, please; breakfast is prepared."

"So, it's alright that I don't have shoes on?" Sable asked as the man turned, indicating for Sable to follow him. The man looked briefly over his shoulder at Sable, not really meeting his eyes as he said,

"You are our guest; you may do whatever you please."

Sable grumbled inwardly; he would never know just what was expected of him unless he was told directly. Apparently manners were top of the priority list for servants like Jor. He already missed the frankness of home, where everyone spoke their minds and you always knew if someone disapproved or not. He had been irritated by this enough times in his life, especially coming from his father, but now he would give anything for Jor to have a little dose of bluntness.

The path to the dining room was becoming familiar to Sable now even after only two meals there, and he followed Jor easily down the staircase and through the wide hallways. As expected, Marcus was sitting at the table already when they arrived, thoroughly absorbed in his newspaper and sipping from a large, steaming mug. The sight somehow warmed Sable through and through.

"Good morning." He said, smiling at the man. Marcus pulled his eyes away from the paper to smile back.

"Well, there he is, finally smiling a bit." He stated, almost instantly noticing Sable's lack of footwear. As he opened his mouth to ask, Sable shook his head, and cut him off.

"Please, just don't ask. I think I've embarrassed myself enough in the last 48 hours."

Sable took his seat across the table, and Marcus' look turned coy. He folded the newspaper as he spoke,

"Ah, yes, I heard about your adventure with the shower last night."

Sable wanted to turn glaring eyes in Jor's direction, but the man had slipped away already. He had never thought that the man might actually repeat the humiliating incident to anyone else.

"I suppose there's no other way I could show all of you how ignorant I am." He said, almost angrily whipping his napkin off the table and into his lap.

"Oh, come now lad don't be upset," Marcus said, "Jor reports to me on duty. You are in my charge and I need to know how you are getting on when I'm not there. That's the only reason why I know. I don't want you thinking that our housekeeper goes around blabbing to everyone. If he did, there would be plenty of embarrassing stories about everyone living in this house, trust me."

Sable felt a little better after hearing this, though his cheeks were still pink. After a few more minutes of sipping coffee and tasting the delicious bacon and eggs, Sable sheepishly explained about the shoes. Marcus' bellowing laugh could have hurt his feelings, but instead he found himself smiling along with the man.

"Ah, lad," Marcus said, his eyes small slits in weight of his smile, "you are the most interesting Ward I think I've ever had in my care. You're a good one, Sable, just remember that. Don't let all this wealth go to your head and intimidate you. The wealthy are people just like you, but many of them are soft. Don't be embarrassed about your own roots. You have more sense than many people in this city."

Sable had never really received many compliments in his life, and so he hardly knew what to do with these statements. He simply ducked his head and muttered a quick thank-you, taking another bite of toast.

"Well, in the meantime, we have a full day planned, eh?" Marcus said, pulling out the little screen from yesterday. "You chose…" he flipped through the schedule that he had made based on Sable's choices, "The Animal Observatory, War Museum, East-End Market…" As Marcus read off the places they were going to visit, Sable found himself becoming excited for the first time. He could not forget the real reason he was here, but he decided that it would be best to lose himself in being a tourist, to take his mind off his worries.

The day passed like a wondrous tour of another world. Sable felt like he had fallen into a different realm of existence, which of course was more or less true. The pace was so hurried, the sites so many, and the people so unique. The style, the glitz, it all seemed beyond him, as was the technology. The screens were everywhere: advertizing, entertaining, informing, like portals to yet another world within the new world of Neuton. Sable believed that his mother's sweater was the only part of him that kept people from staring at him like he was an outsider. He obviously did not have the fancy hairstyles and overly-groomed appearance of the other boys his age that he saw, but he was still young enough that he was thankful that he did not get too many curious stares. Plus, he was with Marcus. The man was intimidating when he assumed role of protector in public, and Sable was never more happy to have him than when he was nearly trampled by a cart merchant. Marcus had pulled him out of the way, clutching him near to his side and growling out threats to the poor merchant, who apologized repeatedly. Sable had to feel sorry for the merchant, but had noticed that the man had not been paying attention to where he was rolling his cart, or how fast.

By midday, Sable felt he was attached to Marcus at the hip. The man was nothing short of his hero; having guided him through the veritable jungle of the city, shared in the sites that floored the boy, and kept him safe through it all. Sable even thought guiltily that Marcus was the kind of man that he wished his father was. He shook off the thought as they ate lunch at a simple but central diner, knowing that such wishes only served to make one discontent. And at this moment, he was more than content.


	7. Chapter 7

The day passed like a wondrous tour of another world. Sable felt like he had fallen into a different realm of existence, which of course was more or less true. The pace was so hurried, the sites so many, and the people so unique. The style, the glitz, it all seemed beyond him, as was the technology. The screens were everywhere: advertizing, entertaining, informing, like portals to yet another world within the new world of Nueton. Sable believed that his mother's sweater was the only part of his appearance that kept people from staring at him like he was an outsider. He obviously did not have the fancy hairstyles and overly-groomed appearance of the other boys his age that he saw, but he was still young enough that he was thankful that he did not get too many curious stares. Plus, he was with Marcus. The man was intimidating when he assumed role of protector in public, and Sable was never more happy to have him than when he was nearly trampled by a cart merchant. Marcus had pulled him out of the way, clutching him near to his side and growling out threats to the poor merchant, who apologized repeatedly. Sable had to feel sorry for the merchant, but had noticed that the man had not been paying attention to where he was rolling his cart, or how fast.

By midday, Sable felt he was attached to Marcus at the hip. The man was nothing short of his hero; having guided him through the veritable jungle of the city, shared in the sites that floored the boy, and kept him safe through it all. Sable even thought guiltily that Marcus was the kind of man that he wished his father was. He shook off the thought as they ate lunch at a simple but central diner, knowing that such wishes only served to make one discontent. After they ate they returned to the house for a rest, Marcus telling Sable to lie down for a while before they went out again.

"I've seen Wards wear themselves out with too much sight-seeing and make themselves ill." Marcus said, "I learned long ago how to navigate these things. Even if you're not sleepy, just try to rest. I'll come get you when it's time for dinner, then we'll go to The Lucine Gallery."

Sable did not say anything, but he actually did feel very tired. He had slept the night before, but only in increments. The first night in a strange place was not an overly-restful one, but the bed was so comfortable that he was too content whenever he woke to be frustrated. However, he was glad to ease himself into it once again, sighing. He did not bother changing clothes, but he did take off his sweater. It always felt strange but interesting to lie down in ones clothes, and Sable curled up beneath the blankets thankfully, not caring.

While he was thankful for the time to rest, the lack of activity gave his mind plenty of time to start thinking about everything he had tried to forget. Therefore his thoughts turned once more to the tryst. Three days from now he would lose his virginity to a dragon, and his hair would forever bear his Mark. Sable had not really thought too intensely on this before, how his appearance would be affected. He supposed carrying a Mark made by magic rather than a human brand would be very special. Still, the cost of the Mark was high, both financially and emotionally. The idea of a man's hands on him sent shivers up and down his spine. He was not against the idea of being attracted to other men, having been around the concept his entire life as a norm, but he had always liked women. At least, he had thought he had…he had never really made up his mind, not having that much time to consider the matter, or much need. He was only fourteen; romance was not top priority. He had, of course, like all other boys his age, discovered the cravings of his changing body. He had learned what he liked with his own hand, and heard about what two lovers do together by the whispers of older youngsters. While the ideas were all very exciting, Sable had just known that he had to wait until he was older, or found someone he cared for. Truth be told, his problems with his families' business had preoccupied him so much that he had not spared much thought for anything else for quite a long time.

He felt oddly like he had been sacrificed against his will; he was little better than a child, and he was being handed to a complete stranger. He understood the tradition, and the status symbol of being Marked, but he could never remember hearing of anyone being Marked under the age of sixteen before. Of course, perhaps here in Nueton that was not uncommon. He was not sure. There were certainly no Marked people in Nardack. He sighed heavily as he turned onto his other side, trying to push the worrisome thoughts out of his head. While they continued to plague him, his weariness drowned him and he fell into a deep sleep.

00000000000

Sable knew he was smiling like a complete idiot. He could not help it; he was overwhelmed by the mood in the grand gallery. The lights were low, but the artworks were lit perfectly. The murmur of guests and the clink of wine and water glasses floated through the huge rooms. He saw sweeping floor-length gowns and wraps covered in feathers or exquisite furs. He saw satin cravats and shiny shoes with expensive suits and glinting pocket watches. He saw wealth. Invincibility. It was somewhat intoxicating to him, and for the first time in his life he felt a twinge in his heart, a longing to have if only in part what these glamorous people did. He was too absorbed in the atmosphere to really feel out of place. While most everyone else here was dressed so formally, he was just in his simple pants and his new beloved sweater.

He did receive quite a few odd stares, as his clothes singled him out at once. However, Marcus was once more his savior. The other guests needed only glimpse his stern face to guess that any comment or rude look would require personal intervention on his part. Sable was aware of how much Marcus was actually keeping trouble or pain from reaching him, and he appreciated it greatly. Wherever he went in the gallery he could feel his silent presence like a strong spirit following him, watching over him. It was a good feeling, and it put him at ease.

While Sable could not see in color, he could still appreciate art. His father made sure of that in his own way, training into him respect for anyone's creation. His father was an artist in so many ways, and Sable had always been jealous of his ability. Even his mother was able to weave on the loom, while the one time he had tried to paint when he was younger was greeted with disaster. Or so he was told. He had thought that his swirly painting style of the mountains across their plain had looked alright, but apparently he the color scheme had been hideous. To him it was all black, white and grey, so there had been no need to specifically use those colors of paint. Apparently he should have, and he never tried to paint again after that. He had been ten.

As he stopped before one painting, he found himself lingering there a long time. It appeared to be a very large representation of a pair of young eyes. The paint was layered on thickly in wide strokes, giving it a sense of movement and excitement, while the texture still managed to appear soft in the pale flesh around the eyes. Beneath it was a simple silver plaque with one word engraved on it; "Jem." For some reason, Sable found himself intrigued by the style. He eventually left the painting, but his eyes kept wandering back to it from whatever other piece he tried to look at in that same room. Finally, he went right back to it and continued to stare at those lovely young eyes. There was just something about them…

"This one sure carries a story." A voice told him, and he felt someone moving to stand beside him. When he looked up he saw a tall man looking at the painting as well. "Tell me, are you aware of you this is?"

Sable was a bit taken aback that a complete stranger would talking to him, but the man's tone was kind, and he was more than aware of Marcus' protective gaze watching them both. So he answered,

"No, I have no idea."

"Then I'm curious," the man said, looking briefly down at him, "what are your impressions?"

"Oh, um…ok…" Sable stuttered, looking back at the painting and thinking for a few seconds. "Well, I feel like…while the eyes are really pretty…they belong to a boy. He looks like he's smiling, but his eyes look tragic too. I can't explain it, but there's so much energy and life to the painting, while at the same time it's like there's a sadness to it as well. Like he's looking for something with all his heart but is still alone."

Sable felt his cheeks heat a bit after he spoke. He had never really talked to anyone about his thoughts on art before, and certainly he had never had an opportunity like this before.

"You are very perceptive, young one." The man said, grinning down at him. "But is there nothing more than you notice? Something very obvious an unavoidable?"

Sable felt put on the spot, and he strained his eyes to look over every detail in the brilliant painting, but could not see anything more than what he had interpreted himself. Finally he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry, I just..I don't know."

"What do you think about the color of his eyes?" The man asked, "Unusual, no?"

"Oh," Sable felt an all-too-familiar pinch of inadequacy, and answered, "I'm actually colorblind so…they just look light grey to me."

The man's face changed at once, lifting into an interested expression. The overly-apologetic expression and stumbling words of regret he had been so used to receiving did not come. The man simply tilted his head down at him.

"Really? Well, that explains it then. You see, the boy's eyes are lavender."

Sable frowned slightly.

"I might not be able to see colors, but I do know that whatever lavender is, it's not a color you see in most eyes."

The man pointed an affirming finger at him.

"Exactly. To make the boy even more intriguing, his hair is white."

"Like an elderly person?" Sable asked, confused. "Is that supposed to be a symbol of wisdom at a young age or something?"

"Oh no," the man said, shaking his head and smiling, "good idea, but no; this is actually a partial portrait of a real person. His name is Jem."

Sable turned to look the man full on, incredulity showing in his raised eyebrow.

"How in the world does someone make themselves look so unnatural?!" He asked, completely curious. The man seemed to be taking a great deal of pleasure in enlightening him, enjoying his interest.

"He had no control over his appearance; he was born like that. Or should I say," the man shook his head slightly, sighing before he finished, "he was designed like that."

"What do you mean?" Sable asked, looking back at the painting.

"That young man is what we call a 'Custom'. He was one of the first generation of artificially created human beings."

Sable felt something jump in his heart, and he turned back to the man, looking horrified.

"Tell you you're lying." He said, sounding distressed, "no one can create another person, it's just not right! It goes against the laws of nature!"

"Nature is filled with ingredients," the man pointed out to him, "including what is found in the human body. By manipulating those ingredients and adding a few more traits, top biologists can create whatever they please."

Sable had to breathe a little heavier, for the idea was a heavy one. He had truly been living under a rock to have not even heard of such a dark achievement.

"I feel a bit sick." He stated tactlessly, taking in a few more deep breaths.

"I am sorry to have upset you." The man said, moving a bit closer to him and placing a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"

Sable nodded, and the man disappeared to do as he offered. Sable kept staring into the eyes of the painting, seeing them in a whole new light.

"No offense, Sable, but I can't believe you were unaware of Hominisfabrication," Marcus' voice said softly behind him, "the making of humans, I mean."

"I mean, I've heard rumors from the city people who make it out to Nardack, but I thought that the dream of 'cloning' and such was just that; a dream. I never imagined that they actually managed to do it."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, that particular lad in the painting is doing very well. You should ask your new friend when he returns with your water."

Sable was slightly distracted as he asked,

"You don't happen to know who he is, do you?"

Marcus' face shifted into a neutral expression that Sable wasn't sure he liked.

"No one for you to fear," he answered, "quite the opposite; he's a powerful man who had done much, for many."

While Sable was about to ask Marcus to expand on this tight summation of the strange man, said man returned with the promised water. He also had a glass of wine for himself.

"Feel better?" The man asked, as Sable swallowed. The boy looked surprised when he tasted the small bite of citrus in the water, but simply nodded.

"Much, thank you." Sable answered, "I'm sorry for reacting like that. If you couldn't tell, I don't live here, and am unaware of a lot that has happened in this city."

"Not to worry, the concept is repulsive even to many of Nueton's own inhabitants. It was a huge issue in the media. Especially when it got wind of Jem's story." The man indicated the painting with a nod of his head.

"What is his story?" Sable asked.

"Well, when scientists determined that they did indeed have the ability to create life, they also had to appeal to the commercial nature of this city. In other words, they took commissions for Nueton's elite classes. Some wanted a child, some wanted a soul-mate, while others wanted…well…you could say a 'slave'."

"That is…" Sable felt anger rising in him, but the man beat him to it, holding up a hand.

"Despicable, I know. The mystery is, no one knows where Jem came from. It is obvious that he is a Custom, but he has not been claimed by any scientist, at least not in this country. He was found on the streets when he was close to nine years old, and a charity worker took him in and raised him with his own two sons. Jem became famous a few years later when he became a child singing star by winning a famous competition. Everyone knew his story after that."

Sable was intrigued by the story, and again his impression of the boy's expression shifted.

"How old is he now?"

"Sixteen I think. He has an incredible range for his age, and he can sing virtually any style, his voice even changes with each song. It's unbelievable. Very smart as well, though many people suspect that his mental abilities were enhanced by whoever created him."

"Does he know how he came into the world?" Sable asked.

"Yes, he has always known. That is part of his intrigue; he has this vision of who he believes to be the person who had him created, he thinks it is his first memory. He is adamant that he was somehow lost, and that he needs to find his maker."

"Why would he…" Sable shook his head, finding this subject matter much too weighty for him to want to discuss it further. "Well, I wonder what will happen if he does."

The man picked up on his dismissive tone, and obliged him by walking with him into the next room.

"I am sorry that I never introduced myself," The man said, holding out his free hand, "My name is Kavieh Sentinne."

"Sable Knight."

Sable replied, shaking Kavieh's hand. He took this opportunity to look him over more thoroughly. Marcus had said that he was a good person, a powerful person. He certainly looked it; his shirt must have been real silk, his pants trimmed to fit him exactly, and his boots the height of fashion. His dark hair was slicked fashionably to one side, and a small stud graced each of his ears. He was probably a little younger than Sable's father, with very faint lines around his eyes and forehead. He was still handsome for his age, with his warm smile and sparkling eyes. He seemed a lively sort of person, and Sable liked him. Something in Kavieh's face warmed when he heard Sable's name, or at least the boy thought it did, but the next second it was gone as the man took a sip of his wine.

"What an interesting name." Kavieh said, with none of the polite air that so many of these city people seemed to have, including Jor back at the house.

"Yours too," Sable said, meaning it, "Is it a foreign name?"

"Yes, from the southeast. That's where my father's side of the family was from. My grandfather migrated to Nueton and married my grandmother here, so I'm only one generation removed from our country-dwelling lifestyle. That is why I connect so deeply with those like you, who are not from the city."

"Is it that obvious?" Sable asked, though he was smiling. Kavieh chuckled as well as they casually walked around the sculpture room.

"I hope I did not offend you; I have a way of finding country dwellers even if they're wrapped in city finery. It's a gift of sorts, granting me access to many conversations, trust me. Like the one I'm having with you."

"I can't be easily offended just because I don't fit in here in the city." Sable said, "I know I stick out, but I'm ok with that. I enjoy the city very much, but that doesn't mean I want to pretend to be something that I'm not."

Kavieh turned and raised his wine glass to him.

"You're a clever boy for your age, you know that? Which would be..?"

"Fourteen."

Kavieh cut his sip of wine short to say,

"You look older, I must say."

"It's just the sweater."

They shared a small chuckled as they continued to pass from statue to statue. The next hour was spent in conversation between the two, and Sable found that Kavieh seemed to be more than willing, even eager, to teach him about so many events and advances that he had been completely unaware of before. Sable was enthralled by what a wealth of knowledge the man was, not to mention well-connected. Kavieh was politely interrupted many a time by one influential person or another, and Marcus would whisper into Sable's ear who they were as Kavieh made his initial greeting. After this, Kavieh would actually introduce Sable, though the conversation seemed to end for the boy with 'hello'. The people only wanted to talk to Kavieh about things far above Sable's knowledge. He found it remarkable that by the end of the night, Kavieh had not once asked him why he was here in the city where he so obviously did not belong. Then again, Sable had not asked Kavieh what he did, either.

"Sable, my lad, it is time to go." Marcus finally informed him, after the world outside had grown dark.

"Time flies when you're making good conversation." Kavieh said with a shrug, and put his hand out one more time, "It was good to meet you, Sable. Perhaps we'll run into each other another time. I attend many functions around the city, and if you're going to be doing the same prior to your Marking, then there is a chance of meeting again."

Sable caught his breath suddenly, and without thinking, blurted out quietly,

"How in the world did you know I was here for a Marking?!"

Kavieh's face looked momentarily regretful, but he covered the expression quickly, and his eyes cast toward Marcus.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but you are a country-dwelling fourteen-year old who has a large burly man silently escorting you around an art gallery. There are a limited number of explanations, my lad."

Sable considered his conclusions, and then sighed, nodding his understanding.

"You got me."

"Well, I hope all goes well," Kavieh said, gripping his hand a bit tighter. "I mean it."

His voice had deepened a bit on the last three words, and his eyes had become strangely more intense, and Sable did not know what to make of it beyond the man's desire for him to know he wished him well. So he said his goodbye and followed Marcus to the vehicle.

"I never thought I could talk so much with a man so much older than me." Sable said, seating himself across from Marcus. The man seemed very quiet as they started off, and spent the rest of the trip staring reflectively out of the window, a slight frown frozen on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

"How did it go tonight?" Sarik asked from his deep armchair, when he heard his door open and close. Marcus all but marched up to the drink table and poured himself a tall glass. Sarik glanced up from his book to see what his friend was doing.

"Hmmm…am I to assume that the evening ended badly?" He asked with a cheeky smile. "Did the little frightened fawn kick you with his young hooves when you spooked him, or something of that nature?"

Marcus downed his glass with a wince and a shudder, immediately plunking it down and filling it all over. His voice was somewhat rough and strained as he spoke the single word,

"Kavieh."

The name wiped the smirk off Sarik's face, and he frowned, closing his book at once without even bothering to mark his place.

"What happened?" He asked, concerned. Marcus ran his fingers through his hair and then shook his head.

"He couldn't keep his distance."

Sarik rose from his chair, eyes flashing as he approached his friend.

"Meaning?"

"He obviously couldn't stay away," Marcus said, now sipping at his second glass, "he started talking with Sable the moment he spotted him. The conversation was neutral enough that there was no reason for me to intervene, but let me tell you I was tense as a wire all night and my muscles are screaming right now."

Sarik's look was intense, showing the furious workings of his mind through his clenched jaw and staring eyes.

"How did Sable react to him?"

"How do you expect?" Marcus asked, moving away from Sarik and leaning against the window seat, "he's a good lad, so he was polite, and then became engaged in the conversation. They talked nonstop for more than an hour and the lad seemed completely happy."

Sarik now poured a glass for himself as well, but did not toss it back like Marcus had, simply tasted it fully before he spoke,

"He's dangerously close to breaking his own contract." Sarik said worriedly, moving back to his chair. "I thought he was going to steer clear of all of us. Wasn't that the arrangement? You handled all the paperwork, you know better than I."

Marcus let out a puff of air, placing the cool glass to his temple.

"No, he never stated that he was to stay away, only that his identity was to be preserved in anonymity. Thinking back of it, I probably should have insisted that he include a section about proximity to the Ward in question…how foolish of me. But I don't understand…I never did from the moment he came to me. If I can't understand his motives from the beginning, how can I hope to comprehend now? The entire situation is…odd."

"That is what you have been saying," Sarik observed, taking another sip from his glass, "is it really so strange that someone would act so? Kindness does exist in the world, you know."

"Of course I know that!" Marcus said almost angrily, "But Kavieh has never answered the question 'why'. Months ago I asked him point blank why he wanted to do this, and he refused to tell me."

"We are not entitled to an answer, Marcus," Sarik said, "that is outside the realm of the business arrangement we have made, and you know it."

"Fine, I'm guilty of having a severely overactive curiosity!" Marcus fumed, turning to Sarik, "Tell me you haven't found it strange at all? Haven't you wondered-"

"Marcus."

"It's just all so-"

"Marcus!" Sarik's voice was gentle, but insistent. Marcus paused a moment to catch his breath, and looked at his friend. Sarik looked right back at him kindly, and asked him, "Why are you getting so upset about this?"

The other man shook his head a second time, and sighed wearily.

"I just…Sable's such a good lad. I understand now that he deserves whatever can be given to him. But that's why…I suppose I've become so protective that I perceive threats that may not exist."

Sarik nodded his head,

"I would say so, my friend. After all, Sable's wellbeing is the only reason we are all here, so just calm down. Kavieh means no ill toward him; you should know that better than anyone. So just relax and let things play out. If you feel Kavieh is behaving in an unfit manner you can call him on it and even he will know that he must comply."

Marcus nodded, downing the last of his drink after a long silence. Sarik dipped his head slightly to look at him like an adult might to a child they were trying to talk to.

"There is something more you have to say." He said perceptively, and Marcus frowned at him, forever amazed at his friend's ability to see what other's tried to kept hidden.

"You're right, of course you are." He said, sitting down finally in the other chair. "There's just…something different about this lad, Sarik. He's so…pure. I…I almost feel guilty about giving him to you."

Sarik nodded, having felt the same unease many times in his life, doing what he did. He remained silent, however, having not heard this kind of tone from Marcus since their partnership began years ago.

"Sarik, just," Marcus looked up at him, his deep brown eyes slightly pleading in the firelight, "be good to him. He's a special little thing."

Sarik reached forward to place his hand on Marcus' broad shoulder. He gripped it firmly.

"I promise."

((()))

The next few days literally seemed to fly by for Sable. Never had he felt more alive than he did immersed in the rush and bustle of the big city. He was beyond amazed every day by what he saw and the people he met. The food was spoiling him to be sure; he felt like he'd gained five pounds since he'd arrived. His pallet had never sampled such intense flavors before, spices and such being used in moderation back home. Sable wondered if he could ever return home without being discontent, but whenever the though came up he suppressed it quickly. This entire trip was to ensure a better life for himself, and that would certainly not happen if he were to start complaining about his own home and upbringing.

Marcus was very good at his job, arranging everything that they did and making Sable feel comfortable and safe. That was what an Emissary did, and Marcus was excellent at it. Sable found out accidentally over the days that Marcus was actually married, but when he pushed eagerly for more information the man told him that he did not merge his work and his private life. That had stung just a bit. Sable had forgotten for while that he was indeed, part of a job for Marcus. While the man treated him kindly, he was being paid for it all the same. Sable became a bit moody that day, sulking and blatantly keeping quite. It was hard to remain so, however, when he was taken to the very first musical production he had ever seen.

Music had been something that Sable loved back home, but their connection on the little radio had always been patchy at best. He was blown away by the power of the performance as well as the music. He had forgiven Marcus after than when the man bought him a player with all the songs from the production. He was more than giddy. No one had ever given him such an expensive present. In reality, the cost was not to hefty, but to Sable it was a treasure that would provide much needed entertainment at home. He spent the rest of the days listening to it when he could, even beginning to learn the songs.

Another odd little happening was that the man named Kavieh seemed to keep popping up over the next four days. At exhibitions, museums, even restaurants, he seemed to show up however briefly, at least once in each day. Some days they just shared a passing hello, other days they would talk for a longer period, and even ate together once. Sable might have been young, but he was no idiot, and he could tell that these appearances irked Marcus greatly. The man would speak to Kavieh occasionally in the conversation, but otherwise Sable had the impression that he was fuming silently while standing guard over him. Sable had to admit to himself that it did seem strange. Out of all the people who he had casually spoken to at the various locations, Kavieh was the only one he ever met more than once. Let alone four times. The man seemed interested in him, eager to be kind and share information as well as hear about his family. What he offered in return about himself was very little, however. Sable learned next to nothing about what Kavieh actually did for a living, let alone if he had a family. All he really knew was that Kavieh seemed an exceptionally kind man, but beyond that, nothing more was divulged. As strange as it was, Sable just put it down to the oddness of city behavior, and did not dwell on it too much.

Finally, the fifth day came, and it dawned with a surprise. Marcus greeted him at breakfast, as usual, but his demeanor seemed a bit more serious. Then he spoke the words that sent a shock through Sable's body,

"Tonight's the night, then, lad."

Sable's already pale face went white. He could feel the blood drain from it.

"What?" He asked softly, having thought that he had one more day at least. "Already? I thought…I don't know what I thought…"

Marcus spoke calmly,

"The fifth night is always the tryst night when a Ward is given a week. The next day you and Sarik will spend together as you wish. The day after that you will return home. I did tell you this on the ride here on the first day, lad."

Sable swallowed a bit,

"I'm sorry, I wasn't really paying much attention when I first met you."

"No, that's for sure." Marcus said kindly, "I'm sorry, I suppose I should have updated you throughout the week. Forgive me."

"It's alright." Sable said, drinking from his water glass. "It's not like I have forgotten or anything."

"Well, have you forgotten what is on the schedule for today then?"

"Completely."

Marcus grinned slightly.

"You, my lad, are going to be pampered within an inch of your life."


	9. Chapter 9

"Within an inch of my life indeed…" Sable murmured quietly to himself between a tiny grin. It was an effort for him to even get the words out, as he was so relaxed sitting in the tub of fragrant water. He found it difficult to let his mind and body do anything but drift lazily. He had hardly even heard the word 'spa' in his life let alone really had a good understanding of what it meant. He vaguely remembered associating what little he did know about the word with rich females. He certainly had not been expecting the granite floors and marble pillars, the huge arching domed ceilings above each spacious room, and the innumerable number of baths.

When Marcus had brought him to the building he felt relaxed just from walking into the lobby; the air smelled lovely due to the beautiful lacy-petal flowers that arched gracefully from their select pots, there was gentle music playing from somewhere, and the sound of trickling water from little rock fixtures and fountains seemed to calm Sable at once. While the place was so huge that he knew there must be many other customers there, everything was very still and quiet. The people they did meet, like the young lady at the front desk, spoke softly and maintained the atmosphere of relaxation. Marcus had interacted with her briefly, apparently having called ahead and arranged everything. The man then turned to Sable.

"Have you been to a spa, by any chance?"

Sable merely raised his eyebrows at him, sarcastically and silently answering him, and Marcus smiled, continuing,

"I just had to check. Since you haven't, I'm going to enlighten you a bit on what you'll be doing, or should I say not doing. It is after ten in the morning now, so for the next two hours you'll be undergoing a lot of bathing and skin treatments."

Sable almost laughed out loud at him. It sounded absurd.

"Skin treatments?" He giggled, trying to keep his voice quiet, "Baths? Really?"

Marcus looked surprised at his reaction.

"What has you so amused?" He asked.

"It's just," Sable suppressed a loud chuckle, "that's what a spa is? A giant building where people pay for baths? And for two hours? What in the world-"

Marcus gave him such a look of amusement that Sable stopped laughing at once, feeling like he was the one being laughed at now. The man shook his head at the boy and his eyes all but sparkled as he said,

"You really have no idea, my lad. Trust me, Sable, there is so much more to bathing than a quick scrub with cold water. Here, there is even more to it than the showers you have been enjoying so much. If you enjoyed them, you will definitely enjoy this. I guarantee that you will eat your words by lunchtime. That's when I will join you."

"You're leaving me?" Sable asked, a bit nervous about that prospect.

"Do you really want me sitting by you while you're in the bath?" Marcus asked. Sable grinned again, and Marcus nodded, "Well then, I'll be here, do not fear. I have business that I can conduct on my mobile in the room I rented. That's where we'll be eating lunch. I'll still be here if you need me, but I believe you will be just fine."

Sable was then led away by another woman, who was older than the one at the desk. She introduced herself as 'Fralia'. She was very polite to him and made him feel more at ease as he suspected was her job anyway. Once in the small private room she left him there to change into the thin white waist wrap that hung on the single hook. From there Sable was put into his first bath of the day. They called them baths but really they were like small pools, deep enough to immerse the entire body standing up if desired, with many stone seats within. The first one contained a bubbling froth that was meant to completely cleanse him, readying his skin for the rest of the treatments. It was the hottest water that Sable had ever felt, and at first he yelped and tried to get out. Fralia had encouraged him to stay in and adjust. With much wincing and panting, Sable took her advice and actually found that after several moments he did enjoy it, very much. The froth from the bubbling water felt good on his skin, and he chuckled when the bubbles burst along his neck, causing little splashes on his face.

He felt a bit disappointed when Fralia returned shortly after, telling him it was time to get out. Apparently it was dangerous to stay in water that hot for more than fifteen minutes. Sable saw how red his flesh was, and he was no longer upset. Though he had the short waist wrap for modesty, Sable found he had to remove it on and off, and was glad that he had been raised in a community that was comfortable with nudity. That must have been the opinion here, in this building at least. He wore it for the next treatment, however, when he was smeared all over with a thick, dark green mud from his hairline to his waist, then from his knees to his toes. It felt odd to him, having always been told not to play in the mud, also the smell was all wrong; it smelled crisp and fresh, almost sweet like some kind of plant. It felt good, after he got over the strangeness of it. He was left sitting in a slotted wooden chair for the mixture to dry. He scratched some off his face after a few moments as it began to itch. This made Fralia laugh softly when she began scraping the stuff off him with a little wooden scraper. Even that felt somehow good against his skin, as well as the wet cloth that she used to wipe him down.

One bath and treatment in and Sable already felt ready to fall asleep he was so relaxed. He nearly did in the next bath, which was a calm tub of water that smelled like heaven. He tilted his head back against the stone rim of the sunken tub and grinned as he considered Marcus' words that morning. Admitting defeat would be more than easy now, when he fully understood what the man had been trying to tell him. As he lay there, an old concern returned to him; how in the name of all heaven had his parents possibly been able to give him this?

It was bitter to have this kind of worry in his mind as he enjoyed the most luxurious two hours of his life. The cleansing bath, then the clay treatment, followed by the scented bath and then a full body scrub with some kind of granule and spice mixture that felt gritty against his skin but left him feeling lighter than air. By the time Lunch came around Sable thought he would fall over, asleep on his feet. He was given a thick white robe to wrap himself in when he was taken to the room Marcus had rented. It was a peaceful little room with deep couches and a good view of the city from the window. Candles were lit, and the continuous soft music was playing from its invisible source. Marcus was sitting on one of the couches before a little table that was spread with enough light finger-foods to make a heavy meal when put together. He gave Sable a knowing glance when he caught him yawning as he came in.

"So…what do you think now?" He asked. Sable plopped right down into the opposite couch, propping his head up on his hand and sighing.

"I'm spoiled for life now. You know that, right?" He asked, smiling at Marcus. The man chuckled and reached for a slice of pineapple.

"I suppose there are no spas back in Nardack, eh?" He asked, kindly enough, not intending to harm feelings in any way. Sable understood this, and shook his head, also reaching for the fruit. When he had taken a bite, his eyes became far away and he smiled.

"You know, we don't have any spas, but…ah, never mind."

"What?" Marcus asked, curious.

"It's just that we make out alright. There are some things even better than a place as incredible as this."

"Sounds like there's a story in that statement somewhere, lad." Marcus commented, taking a sip of the mint water in his tall glass. "Care to tell?"

Sable sat up and leaned on his knees, smiling fondly.

"The root of one of the Stony Mountains is only a mile away from Nardack. The earth rises steadily from the flat floor of the plain, and leads to the edge of the trees that grow at the foot of the mountain. Not too far into the woods there's a waterfall that comes down from a sheer rise of rock."

Marcus tilted his head to the side, slightly enthralled. The boy's face showed that he was there right now in his mind as he continued.

"In the summer all of us kids like to go there to bathe and swim. It's incredible to stand beneath the falls. It's just a small one, really, but there's a kind of intensity to standing beneath the raw flow of something so purely natural. It's one of our favorite things to do when the weather turns warm. When we need a rest or want to dry off we stretch out naked on the huge rocks that surround the pool. They're always warm and feel so nice. We sunbathe there until we're dry. It's one of the best feelings in the world."

Sable trailed off, and Marcus was left feeling like he could almost taste the summers he had just described; the pure mountain water dripping down his body, the baking heat of the stone beneath his flesh, the glow of sunlight on his face…

"I mean," Sable said quickly, "I'll admit it's nothing like this spa, but…it's what we have…"

Marcus leaned forward as he spoke in response,

"Sable, it sounds to me like the children of Nardack have a better spa than anything we pampered Nueton folk could ever imagine or enjoy."

The boy didn't know how to answer that, so he just smiled and said nothing, eating another piece of fruit. He knew that was not true, but in a way, that waterfall was much better than this fancy place and all its treatments. He was certainly not going to reject any of them at the moment, however. After their lunch, Sable was put right back into yet another tub. This one reminded him of the clay that had been put on his earlier, except this was a whole tub filled with what looked like mud. It pleased him to actually sink his entire body down into it. This was something that every boy secretly longed to do; get covered with mud, just once, with no reprimand. After he had soaked in the mud and then showered off and dried, he was given something that he had never received before; a massage. It was a wonderful massage, Fralia worked oil deeply into his back, his arms and legs, and even his hands and feet. He felt like a rag dog after close to an hour of this. Then came a massage with the heated polished rocks. He had never felt anything like the pleasure of the smooth, natural surfaces running along his flesh, heating him deliciously and easing all his troubles away. Thankfully, he was given time to rest after these two long treatments, and he promptly fell asleep on the couch in the private room where Marcus was still sitting, flipping through info on his screen. Sable had not slept so deeply since coming to Nueton, and when he woke he said so, complimenting Fralia on her skill. Marcus only winked at him affectionately, as if to say, 'there's another round to go yet.'

It was literally close to dinner time before they left the spa. Sable's hands and feet were still tingling from the scrubs and massages they had received; his nails were cleaner and looked healthier than they had ever been. His skin fairly glowed everywhere, and his hair had been washed and styled in a way that accentuated its natural curl. Whatever they had used had brought forth a luster and sleekness that he had never thought his own plain black hair could possess. Of course, according to the stylists his hair was anything but plain; from the beginning they had gone on about what a lovely color it was. Sable thought it odd that one of the few colors he could see did not seem so impressive to him, but it was to everyone else. Apparently his hair's shade of black was considered especially beautiful.

"You clean up good, lad." Marcus commented on the vehicle on the way back. "Did you get enough rest? Not too sleepy are you?"

Sable shook his head, feeling completely relaxed, but invigorated since his hairstyling was the last procedure before they left. There had been so much energy in the salon, a giddy kind of happiness, even if it did come from such a shallow thing as appearance it made Sable feel better.

"I feel like I shed my old body when I went in there, and have walked out with a new one." Sable said almost dreamily.

"I'll be sure to mention that to Fralia in the note of thanks I'll be sending them." Marcus said, tapping at his little screen for a second before putting it away again. "Now, Sable, it is nearly five, so when we get back we will have dinner. After that, you have a little over two hours to yourself. You may sleep if you wish, and I actually would consider that if I were you."

The implied, 'because you might not be getting much more sleep tonight' made Sable swallow shallowly.

"When the time is right I will come to get you ready."

"Not Jor?" Sable asked, surprised.

"It is traditional for the Emissary to garb the Ward for the night with the Marker. There are specific clothes."

"I see." Sable said, trying to maintain the calm that the day at the spa had afforded him. He thought it would be a shame to waste it all in a single second of panic. So he closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the plush cushions on the seat, mentally going back through the wonderful day he had just had.

He could not really taste dinner, being too preoccupied with trying to stay calm. When his alone time came he tried to force himself to sleep. It took nearly an hour to actually fall asleep, and after another hour had passed, too soon, he was being gently shaken awake by a warm and familiar hand.

"It's time, lad." Marcus said softly.

As Sable stretched, instantly awake, he saw that Marcus was carrying a neatly folded pile of clothes. They looked to be made of silk, and as he began stripping off Marcus laid them out on his mattress. There was a thin, nearly sheer shirt of fine white, and a silk robe that tied at one side. Sable couldn't tell the color of the robe, but he could see the intricate rope-like pattern along the hem, and the ends of each wide sleeve.

"Am I to assume there is some symbolism to that pattern?"

Sable asked, as he quickly pulled on the thin shorts that Marcus held out to him firstly.

"Yes," Marcus answered him, laying the rest on the bed and pulling out the sheer tunic, "that pattern is made up of two strands; always weaving in and out of each other, always so close, but each one has its own beginning and its own end. In short, they may share a closeness, but both are individuals on their own paths."

Sable nodded as the all-too-obvious meaning sunk in.

"Lift your arms." Marcus said, and when Sable complied, he slipped the sheer tunic over his head. It felt as if he were not even wearing the garment, it was so light against his skin. Then came the robe. While it looked light, it was actually weightier than he had thought. The sleeves were long on him, nearly hiding his hands. Marcus kneeled before him as he tied the robe at his side. It was somehow strange to see Marcus like that, but Sable tried not to think on it too hard. The dressing complete, the man stood up and stepped back to survey his work. He reached forward to brush a few strands of Sable's recently-styled hair back into place. He nodded, satisfied.

"You will be barefoot, unless you are feeling cold."

"I'm alright." Sable said, though he was not sure that was entirely true.

"Come, Sable, it's time."

Marcus turned, and led Sable out into the hallway. Everything seemed so still, the heavy carpet muffling Marcus' footsteps and completely absorbing Sable's barefoot padding. It had never seemed like a loud or busy place, Sable was not even sure if anyone else was there besides the few staff he had seen over the last few days. But he had a feeling that anyone who was here had been sent away especially for this night. His heart thudded as Marcus led him up the central staircase to the third level. Sable had never actually dared climb up high enough to see where the staircase ended, and was surprised to see that it did not end by leading out into another hallway, but dead-ended at a door. Sable had to catch his breath as he saw what was on the other side. He had not really known what to expect, but this…There were no walls, the entire place was completely open, with gleaming floors and sheer curtains serving as makeshift walls so isolate some areas. It was the largest room Sable had ever seen; he just knew that his entire house could easily fit into just one corner.

A giant fireplace housed a lively crackle, casting dancing light and shadows around the dimly-lit room. Other candles had been lit, but the light from the lamps was kept down very low. Sable could see an arrangement of table and chairs by a curtained window, what looked like a hot-water tub in the far corner, surrounded by large plants, and of course, a large bed in the very center of it all. A giant sheer curtain covered the entire towering bed frame and hung down to the floor, tied back elegantly to four ornate posts standing a little ways out from the bed itself. It was all so stunning that Sable completely forgot to be scared for a moment. When Marcus closed the door behind him…then he began to feel nervous once again.

"You can sit anywhere while you wait for Sarik," Marcus said as they moved further into the great expanse of room, "for now, I must carry out one more of by Emissary duties."

So saying, Marcus went up to the large bed and began turning it down. Sable watched him as if he were an executioner sharpening his axe. Marcus took his time pulling the blanket and sheets down far enough, and then went to each of the four posts, and untied the curtains, letting them fall to enclose the bed. Only the side facing the fireplace was left open for access. When Marcus finished, and turned to look at Sable, his face fell; the boy was clutching his arms around himself defensively, trembling where he stood.

"Oh, Sable…" Marcus said softly, and approached him slowly. Sable stared at the floor, ashamed of his weakness, and unable to look Marcus in the face. The man took hold of his shoulders and guided him to the bench at the foot of the bed, where he sat him down and then knelt before him.

"Just breathe, lad," Marcus said gently, placing his large hands on the tops of Sable's thighs and rubbing them back and forth, "I'm stroking your legs because this action releases chemicals in your brain that calm your body, alright?"

Sable nodded, appreciative of the fact that Marcus had explained himself. He had not even known that such a strange action would make a difference, but the longer Marcus stroked his legs, the calmer he felt. The warmth generated by the movement soothed him as well, and finally he was breathing easier. Marcus must have had plenty of experience with nervous Wards, and so he knew exactly what to do.

"I'm alright," He said quietly, "I'm alright."

Marcus gave him another minute, and then rested his hands over Sable's.

"Sarik Eres is one of the kindest men I know." He said slowly, reassuringly, "He will listen to you, he will take care of you, I promise. And Sable, I swear, you will not be hurt."

Sable looked into Marcus' eyes, and believed him. He believed every word, and that made it easier. He nodded briskly, taking a deep cleansing breath that signaled his readiness. Marcus heard it and accepted the sound, patting his hand before gently doing the face to his cheek. Then the man rose and went back to the door. Once there he turned, and said,

"Sarik will be here shortly. He will speak words of greeting and then reach out to shake your hand, to establish contact. After that, just let him guide you."

"Thank you, Marcus." Sable said, even managing a small smile for the man as he nodded, and closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the fire in the sunning hearth, Sable felt cold beneath the satin robe. While it felt incredible against his skin, the softness intriguing him, he somehow felt more exposed than before. He could not stop shaking. He tried rubbing his hands together, biting his fingertips, even standing up and rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. No matter what he did he could not shake off the fear that had planted itself within him like a strangling weed.

The door opened and Sable thought he would literally jump out of his skin it startled him so much. As his gaze fell upon the man that entered, there was no doubt in his mind that he was Sarik Eres. He was tall, slightly taller than most men Sable had seen. His hair was extremely wavy and grew down to his shoulders, framing a handsome face with very angular features and bright eyes. As the man approached him, Sable caught sight of the point at the tips of each ear. He wished he knew what color his hair was. He wore a robe identical to Sable's, except that the intricate weave pattern wound its way around the low collar of the garment, rather than the bottom like his own. Sable suspected great symbolism there as well; his was on the bottom, and Sarik's was on the top.

"Good evening, Sable."

Sable swallowed hard and tried to answer,

"Good even…" His voice cracked and disappeared on him, and he quickly cleared his throat but couldn't say anything else. He froze, mouth moving soundlessly before he bit his bottom lip. What a first impression he was making on the one who would deflower him. Sarik only smiled kindly, slightly pointed teeth adding to his inhuman appearance.

"As Marcus has probably told you, my name is Sarik. I will be taking good care of you tonight."

Sable only gulped as the man moved toward him. His steps were measured and cautious, as if he knew that moving too fast would set the boy's heart racing with panic.

"All the arrangements have been made. The time is come. I know you must be nervous, but I will do my best to ease your nerves and guide you through this night as gently as I can. I am honored to have been chosen for you, Sable."

He held out a long-fingered hand to Sable, just as Marcus had said he would, to make first contact. Sable reached out and slid one of his hands into Sarik's open, inviting palm. The trembling of his hand was painfully obvious, and Sable felt embarrassed. Sarik glanced down at the shaking hand in his, and knelt down slowly, covering the top of Sable's hand with his free one. He looked right up into Sable huge, gleaming eyes and tilted his head, his expression close to pity.

"Poor thing; you're terrified of me." He stated in a soft voice. Sable could not deny it, so he just stayed silent, observing Sarik's cat-lit elliptical pupils with another stab of fear. They were beautiful, everything about this man seemed beautiful, but the thought of what was to come at his hands just made Sable fear him. Sarik sighed gently.

"It is alright to be afraid, Sable. I wouldn't ask you to behave falsely, however," Sarik raised Sable's hand to his lips and kissed the top very carefully, "I promise that I will not hurt you. I understand how you may feel, but I swear to you that tonight will be nothing like what you fear."

Sarik's voice was calming, and Sable felt himself able to speak now. Even so, he only uttered one single word, that encapsulated all his anxieties and hopes,

"Promise?"

That one word seemed to stir Sarik's heart, and he smiled warmly, standing once again. He laid one hand on Sable's cheek, establishing even more contact. Something warmed Sable's heart as those eyes bored deeply into his own; there was a kindness there that went far beyond what anyone just doing this for work would show. The actual…affection that showed openly in the dragon's face was enough to put Sable at ease, in some strange, sudden manner.

"Promise. I will treat you with the utmost care."

Sable lowered his eyes, unable to handle the raw kindness he saw in Sarik's face. Only one other person in his life had ever shown him that much, and yet he was hardly used to it.

"Um…I…don't know what I'm supposed to do…really…" He admitted shakily.

"I am well aware of that, Sable. So just let me lead you."

Sarik laced their fingers together and walked toward the bed with Sable in tow. Sable felt his stomach lurch when he saw where they were headed, and he made a small sound that may have begun as a gasp.

"Relax, we're just going to sit for now." Sarik assured him, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and tugging at Sable's hand, encouraging him to do the same. "I'd like to talk a bit first, just so that you have an understanding of who I am, and vice versa. I like to match faces with stories and personalities."

"Me too, actually." Sable said, sitting beside the man. "I see a lot of strangers and foreigners where I live, and I can never get enough of the stories."

"You live in Nardak, right? A tradesman's village, so a lot of travelers, am I correct?"

"Tons." Sable said, feeling somehow more comfortable thinking about home at this moment. A slight wistfulness rose in him at the unexpected twinge of homesickness. Despite the luxury around him Sable knew that, at least for now, he did not belong here. He belonged out on the open plain, strong winds blowing his hair, long grasses beneath his bare feet, near and distant mountains adding to a spectacular scenery that he would never give up for all the perks of Neuton. "I've heard about so many other places, but…Nardak is home."

"Tell me about your home then, Sable." Sarik said, sounding so sincerely interested that Sable could have believed that they had all night just to talk about themselves. "Marcus tells me that your father dyes cloth."

"Yes, he's a damn fine hand at it too." Sable said, pride edging his voice and his brightening face. He did not even realize that his hands had stopped shaking in Sarik's. "His cloth goes for the highest price of all the vendors in the village. I guess that's not really saying much, as there's only two others, but still. Our village is definitely large enough for healthy competition. I can't see the colors that he mixes, but I've been told they're brilliant and stunning."

"Does he create patterns?" Sarik asked, tilted his head in curiosity.

"No," Sable answered, "everyone says that he should, but I guess he's just never tried to learn that particular art. I think if he did we might…well…make enough to expand or fix up our house a bit."

"So he doesn't really make that much, even with such a skill?" Sarik asked gently, not belittling, just honestly wanting to know.

"I've always wondered about that." Sable said, "Cloth is expensive, so the price of buying it before it's dyed doesn't leave much of a profit margin…I've always thought he should charge much more than he does, but I have no say in how he runs the business. Honestly, I think the only reason we really stay on top enough to survive is mum's weaving. It gives us just the amount we need to provide for our basic requirements."

Sarik's eyebrows tightened on his smooth brow as he asked,

"You are their only son, correct? So why would you not have a say in the family business?"

Sable dropped his eyes, the familiar shame washing over him, dowsing the flame of pride he held for his father.

"You know I'm colorblind, right?" He asked, "You must know, it was in my…file, or something, right?"

"No, Marcus told me." Sarik answered.

"Well then, you can see where the problem lies, in a dyer's son not being able to take on the trade. Since I can't contribute beyond dealing with undyed cloth, I have no say in anything else. It's fair, it really is, but…it…"

"Saddens you?" Sarik asked, perceptibly. Sable nodded, letting out a heavy sigh.

"I can't tell you how often I've longed to see in color. I don't even know what that means, but I really wish I could…"

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Sarik reached out and cupped Sable's cheek, establishing even more contact, lifting his face.

"The world is so much more than shades of color, Sable," Sarik said sagely, "Believe it or not, the world is even more than your life in Nardak. You just need to find your way, and be happy walking your own path."

The words could have seemed pathetically overused and flowery, but at the moment, Sable believed that Sarik really and truly mean them. That made them real.

"Thank you." He said softly.

There was a surprisingly comfortable pause between the two as Sarik stroked his cheek, then removed his hand.

"I forgot to ask, how old are you, Sable?"

"I'll be fifteen next month."

"Truly?"

Sable nodded, seeing the disbelief in the man's face.

"Then I can honestly say that you're my youngest." Sable strangely found that this information lifted his spirits, making him feel almost special.

"Besides me, how many have you…" Sable trailed off, cheeks flushing. Sarik rolled his eyes upward for a moment as he concentrated.

"Probably…I don't know the exact amount. I've been doing this for almost eight years."

Sable wasn't sure whether to feel encouraged or terrified at the knowledge that the dragon was so experienced. With more gentle promptings, Sarik kept Sable talking for a while. Sable was so engaged he nearly forgot why Sarik was there. The dragon did not seem like he was trying to force conversation to keep the awkwardness at bay; he really paid attention, asking questions and laughing as Sable spoke. He even spoke about himself when Sable asked.

"How old are you?" Sable asked after a time, knowing that it was an impolite question but unable to help himself. The man smiled his kind smile, and stroked the backs of Sable's hands with his thumbs, still holding them with his own.

"I am much older than I appear to your eyes." He answered vaguely, but Sable was intrigued.

"Is it true that dragons live much longer than humans?"

"Well of course; a dragon's life can be as long as two hundred years, although that number is a bit of a stretch. I assure you, though, I am not old for my own race. In your years, I believe I would be in my late 20's."

Sable was finding the conversation distracting, and he even scowled good-naturedly as he said,

"You still didn't tell me just how old you are."

"Perhaps I'll tell you later." Sarik said, sliding his hand up once more to stroke Sable's cheek. The boy did not flinch away from him, but his eyes did flicker down for a moment.

"Where do you live?" Sable had probed at one point, "I mean, you have this house, but when you're in your true dragon form?"

Sarik chuckled at his wording and answered,

"I have a cave in the surrounding mountains. In the colder months I tend to stay in my human form most of the time to stay warm. It is difficult being a giant cold-blooded winged lizard in the middle of winter. Most of my kind who do not have thriving lives as humans hibernate through the cold."

"So…how does that work…when you're born?" Sable asked, having always been curious about that fact.

"What do you mean?" Sarik asked.

"I mean, you have two forms, but you can only be born once, so…"

"Ah," Sarik said, understanding, "all dragons are born from an egg that the mother lays. We do not possess the ability to shift forms until we are close to ten human years of age."

"That makes sense, I suppose." Sable said.

"You still look confused." Sarik pointed out. Sable shook his head slightly.

"I just don't really understand where you get the ability to shift forms in the first place."

"That, my dear Sable," Sarik said, tapping his nose, "is highly secret. Everyone knows it involves magic, which is true, but the process is known strictly to our own race."

"A carefully-guarded secret, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes."

This brought them to yet another short pause in what had been an ongoing conversation for close to thirty minutes. Sable felt the mood change subtly, and found it strangely hard to keep his eyes on Sarik's. A certain intensity had risen in them, a heat that reached out to clutch at Sable's own heart. The man smiled at him and asked softly,

"Sable, may I kiss you?"

"Al…alright…"

Two warm hands slid to hold either side of his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks softly. He was pulled in closer, and his eyes drifted closed as full lips were pressed to his own. It was much softer than he had expected. He had thought that the kiss would end with a quick peck, but Sarik carefully, slowly, moved his mouth, opening Sable's beneath his own and guiding him. Sable gave in, repeating what Sarik was doing and kissing back as best he could. It actually felt…really good. It was a moment later when Sarik pulled back to look at him.

"May I do that again?" He asked, and Sable could only nod at him. When Sarik's mouth returned, Sable felt his fear seeping out of him. It was so very tender, so full of caring that he could not help but feel…safe. There was something about the man asking for permission that seemed to give Sable assurance. He gasped a bit when Sarik's fingers moved in his hair, stroking it softly. His scalp tingled where those fingers went, and it made him grin into the kiss. Sarik pulled back a moment later, his cat-like eyes seeming to glow.

"Are you alright?" He asked, still stroking Sable's hair.

"Yea…" Sable answered.

"I'm glad," Sarik answered, leaning in to kiss his cheek this time, "I'm going to adore you."

It was so strange, hearing such words coming from a man, and being shown tenderness…it was just…different. He almost felt embarrassed. He tried to control his squirming when Sarik began to kiss his ear. It tickled, and he suppressed a very girly giggle as the man moved lower. When those lips touched his neck, the giggles disappeared and Sable felt his heart jump. That tickled too, but not in a way that made him want to laugh. It excited him somehow, and he liked it. The soft dusting of kisses up and down his neck was accompanied by hands that stroked over his shoulders and the other side of his neck. There was so much sensation, even in these gentle touches, and Sable felt his breath quicken the longer his skin was in contact with Sarik's.

"Do you like this?" Sarik breathed against his flesh, his husky tone making Sable blush furiously.

"Mm-hm." Sable answered simply, feeling tingles running all over him at the puff of hot breath.

"I'm taking off your robe now, alright?" Sarik said, and Sable felt the tie at his waist being loosened, and then freed. The silk was pushed gently down his shoulders and off his arms, making him shudder. The sheer tunic beneath left very little of his upper body to the imagination, and Sable could not help but watch Sarik taking in the sight. He had never been looked at like that before; like he was something to be desired, devoured…

"You're beautiful, Sable." Sarik said, running a tentative hand down the boy's arm.

"Thanks." Sable replied, "So…so are you…actually…"

Sarik raised an amused eyebrow and chuckled.

"Why, thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sable felt ridiculous exchanging the words, but he knew they were truthful. Sarik was indeed a lovely man. He knew 'lovely' was not the sort of word one usually used to describe masculinity, but somehow it fit Sarik, with his full mouth, elegantly long neck and large eyes.

"Your skin is so pale," Sarik continued, running one hand gently down Sable's side, "but your features are strikingly similar to the people of the Southern Islands."

"I've been told that before." Sable said, shakily as the man carefully pulled the tunic up and over his head. "My great-great grandfather married a Southern Island woman who came to Nardack with her family. I'm a few generations removed, but that's where I get it from."

"That explains the almond-shaped eyes, but with the pointed nose, and the white skin." Sarik said, almost to himself as he began to kiss Sable's neck once more. The boy barely heard him, focusing on not letting out any embarrassing sounds. "Normally the Islanders' noses are more button-like, and their skin is olive, and I've never seen one of them without brown or black eyes."

"I've been told my eyes have no real color." Sable managed, gasping a little as Sarik raked his teeth along his collarbone, sending a shiver down his spine. The man pulled back to look into his face, studying in eyes.

"That's not true." He said after a few seconds. "They're silver. Last time I checked, that was a color too."

"From what I hear silver is a kind of grey, so I think the color of my eyes looks to same to me as everyone else."

"Well, they're striking regardless."

Sable was about to offer thanks, but Sarik's large hands skirted smoothly up his back and took his breath away. No one had ever touched his back before. Those hands moved up the plains of this back, and then down his sides, the rhythm intoxicated him. Sable fisted his hands in the silken fabric of his shorts, unable to keep the gasps from slipping past his lips. He met Sarik's eyes, and felt his face heat as the man winked at him. Sable bit his lip nervously, and when he saw the action, Sarik leaned in and gently pulled at his bottom lip with his own teeth, taking out it from beneath Sable's own worried biting. Sable never would have thought that such a move was erotic, but it most certainly was. Sable cautiously lifted his hands and rested them on Sarik's arms, feeling the power of the firm muscles.

"Your eyes are striking too." Sable murmured when the dragon once more moved in on his neck.

"Thank you," Sarik said, gently pushing on Sable's shoulders, "will you lie back for me?"

Sable felt a strange thrill run through his spine, and he couldn't decide whether or not it was fear or excitement. He did as Sarik requested, scooting back into the center of the bed and reclining against the pillows. Sarik stretched out beside him, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at him.

"Still nervous?" He asked, running one hand down Sable's arm.

"I'm…alright." Sable answered truthfully.

"That makes me glad." Sarik said, and leaned in to kiss Sable's lips once again. The boy actually craned his neck gently up into the kiss, moving his lips against Sarik's with a tad more enthusiasm than he had before. Sarik's hand slipped behind his head to hold his neck, fingers tickling his sensitive flesh. He made a small sound, and he felt Sarik's arm come across his body to brace himself on his hand. When the kiss broke, Sable opened his eyes to see the dragon leaning over him. It somehow made him feel smaller, more vulnerable, but the kindness in Sarik's eyes made him feel safe.

The man's expression was hidden from him as he leaned down over Sable's chest. That warm mouth touched his skin, and his breath came out in a short puff. Sarik began to slowly scatter kisses across his chest, his hands stroking along his slender sides. Sable felt his heart beating faster and faster as the sensual touches and kisses began to truly excite his flesh. His face flushed as he felt the room in his shorts rapidly decreasing as he grew hard. Before he could feel any more embarrassed Sarik's tongue flicked out across his nipple.

"Ah!"

Sable gasped, his hands clenching at the unexpected twinge of arousal that action caused him. Taking this as a good sign, Sarik smoothed his tongue directly over the dark pink nipple, sliding his other hand up to rub at the other. Sable began gasping, unable to keep from twisting beneath the pleasure. Sarik hummed against his nipple, causing a pleasant vibration to course through his flesh. Another shameful sound escaped Sable's mouth, and Sarik pulled back to look down at him again.

"Are you enjoying that?"

Sable could only nod and give a small, bashful grin. Sarik responded by stroking his cheek and kissing his lips briefly.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sable. Make all the sounds you want; it makes you feel even better."

"Do you make sounds when you feel good too?" Sable asked, without a clue as to where that question had sprung from.

"When I feel good enough, yes, I do." Sarik answered, seeming to be amused by the inquiry. "But it is you who is the center of my attention tonight."

So saying, Sarik leaned down farther than he had before, kissing Sable's midriff and making him twitch even more. His fingers came to delicately hook around the waistband of his silky shorts.

"I'm going to take these off now, Sable." He said, and Sable felt heat rush right back into his cheeks. He made a small sound of acknowledgement, and then the shorts were removed smoothly. For the first time in his life, Sable felt self-conscious about his nakedness. A great urge to cover himself seized him, but he managed to grip the bed sheets and ignore it.

"Somebody has liked my attentions." Sarik chuckled, and Sable shifted his legs uncomfortably. As if in direct response to Sable's nervousness, Sarik slid off his own robe, revealing that he did not wear the sheer tunic, or the shorts. He was completely bare beneath that one layer. Sable stared at his body in a way that he had never looked at any man's body before. This was the body that his own would know, would feel, for the first time. Sarik was firm, but not overtly muscular; his stomach was flat, his legs trim, and his arms and chest were well-formed and sculpted. His skin was slightly darker than Sable's, and he wished he could tell what color it was exactly. He had no concept of flesh tones.

His manhood was what Sable had really been concerned about. While size was always a matter of pride for men, Sable had actually been hoping that the dragon was somewhat smaller, just so that the act they were to perform would be less painful than he imaged it would be. His hopes were somewhat dashed when he looked down between those long legs. Sarik was not small, not in the least. He was at least six inches long. But he was not as thick around as Sable had feared, so he felt that it would be manageable. Comparatively, his own was actually…a bit bigger…

Sarik caught the look of surprise on Sable's face, and laughed, laying down again and pulling Sable close against his body. Sable gasped as that throbbing hardness pressed against his stomach, and as his own was trapped between his own body and the dragon's warm thigh.

"It seems you are very much blessed, Sable." Sarik said, "That cock you have there is a fine specimen."

"Thanks." Sable breathed, holding back the urge to thrust his hips against the man's skin.

"May I touch it?" Sarik asked.

Sable felt inexplicably amused by this request, and unable to hold it in, began to giggle.

"Was it something I said?" Sarik asked with a smile.

"It's just that you keep asking for permission, even though the point is that you do all the things you keep asking!" Sable said between giggles. "You have permission."

"Why, thank you, my dear one." Sarik said, shifting his leg a bit. Sable's giggles stopped as that leg began moving back and forth against his member. It felt good. He shivered. The next second one of Sarik's warm hands was around his hardness, and he jerked in surprise. His breath began coming out audibly, and he swallowed hard.

"Just relax, and enjoy it." Sarik said, moving his hand slowly along Sable's blessed length, delicately kissing his neck at the same time. The boy bit his lip once more, his hips obeying the former urge and thrusting forward mildly into that stroking hand.

"That's really…nice…" Sable murmured, his hands moving from their place against the dragon's chest and holding onto his shoulders instead. "Ah! Oh! God…ah…ah…hmmm…wow…ah…" Stroke by stroke, Sable lost his self-consciousness in lieu of his rising desire and began making the sweet sounds more frequently. His cock leaked slick need which Sarik used to aid the slide of his hand along the hot flesh. Sable just about lost his mind when a broad thumb rubbed gently against the underside, where he was the most sensitive. He tossed his head back and bit his lip hard, letting out a strangled sound and gripping Sarik's shoulders tightly.

"You're so close…" Sarik whispered into his ear, "I can feel you throbbing in my hand."

A hot tongue traced the shell of his ear and Sable shuddered, turning his head of his own volition to kiss the man. He wanted to. There was no way he could explain it to himself, but he really wanted to kiss Sarik right then…and more later…Sable's fingers found their way into the dragon's wealth of soft hair, twining around the long waves and giving himself up to the kiss and the touch. This lovely collage of affection went unbroken for over a minute, before Sable broke the kiss to gasp deeply as Sarik squeezed him deliciously.

"Don't, I'll…!" Sable began, unable to finish the embarrassing sentence.

"Usually it's customary for the Ward to come first," Sarik said, sounding out of breath himself, "but if you insist, I can lavish another pleasure on you, and we can see where it goes."

Sable barely had time to nod before he was being pulled to sit straight up on his knees. He felt his already pink cheeks flush even deeper as Sarik sat before him, his own long legs stretched out on either side of the boy's. His face was so close to…the boy's eyes opened as if a light had switched on in his head; he knew exactly what the man was going to do, and it instantly excited him. His cock actually twitched a little and stood up taller. Sarik grinned at this, and wrapped his large hands around Sable's hips, keeping him in place as he leaned in close. His tongue led the way, lapping cheekily against the side of his erection. Sable's hands flew to Sarik's shoulders again, his breath increasing again as the man began pleasuring him with his mouth.

Sable had been well aware of this technique, of course, and had fantasized many times about what it might feel like. The closest he had ever come to simulating the experience was using his own soapy hands during baths. The real thing was incredibly better, and as the dragon's mouth closed around his tip completely he let his head fall back as he relished the wetness and heat. The suction came next, and he barked a little cry at the sudden spike of pleasure, his body arching forward over Sarik's head as he rode the exquisite sensations out as best he could.

"Please! Oh, please!" He found himself panting, wanting so much more, but unable to really deal with the current level of pleasure. His hands pawed at Sarik's hair, gripping and releasing in time with his pleasure. Finally Sarik pulled back, swiping his tongue along the crest one last time before pulling Sable's legs out from under him, tumbling him to his back playfully, landing atop him. Sable laughed along with the man, before he was kissed soundly again.

"Sable, I'm going to put some lotion on you, alright?" Sarik said then, reaching beneath the far pillow and pulling out a strategically-placed bottle. Sable felt his heart tighten as he realized what Sarik meant. But he trusted him, inexplicably, he trusted his man to take care of him. It was strange, how he had feared him so greatly, but by spending a very short time with him Sable felt he had made some connection with the man. It sounded ridiculous, but he knew he was not lying to himself.

Thus when those long fingers began to rub lotion between the tender cheeks of his rump, he just breathed deeply and relaxed, waiting.

"I can see you have a very trusting heart, Sable." Sarik said softly to him, as he began to probe teasingly at Sable's virgin portal. "I'm glad that you have chosen to trust me this much, when you could have continued to fear me."

Sable nodded, his eyes bright and calm. The tip of Sarik's finger eased into him, and he winced at the burn. Just the tip of one finger and it hurt that much…Sable was not sure how this was ever going to be possible. But Sarik kept at it, adding a generous amount of lotion to the point where Sable vaguely worried about the sheets, as he kept feeling the excess sliding down. Those gentle fingers worked on softening him for endless moments, while he winced and breathed hard. Sarik kissed his face and stroked his hair every now and again to try and soothe him through it. After a very long time with much effort, Sarik was sliding two fingers in and out smoothly. Sable was silently mourning the loss of his erection, which had dissipated quickly at the ongoing intrusion of Sarik's fingers, however gentle they had been. When Sarik saw how soft he had become he whispered promises of greater pleasure.

"Bear with me, Sable, this will feel good soon."

Sable did trust the man, but he wondered if he could actually believe those words. Only a short time later Sarik proved himself right by nudging his fingertips against something inside Sable that made him nearly jolt straight upright, it felt so good.

"What was that?!" He all but gasped, eyes squeezing shut again as Sarik pushed against that spot once more.

"That is the seed of pleasure, buried deep for a male lover to find." Sarik whispered, seeming very pleased with himself.

Sable jerked as bolts of hot white electricity shot down his spine and up into his flaccid member. Every time Sarik touched that place, it was like an intense dry orgasm over and over. Sarik's promise came true as his cock began to harden instantly as Sarik began to mercilessly drive his fingertips against that one insane spot. Sable began chattering nonsense sounds as the pleasure built and built in him, his hand gripping tight onto Sarik's arm. He could taste his release, could sense it so close it nearly ached.

Then it all stopped for a moment, and Sable caught himself just before blurting out a piteous moan. When he saw what Sarik was doing, however, he understood. The man was coating himself with the same lotion he had used to prepare Sable. The boy's mouth watered at the sight, and he found a strange boldness rise in him, and he reached out timidly to touch one of the man's stroking hands.

"Go on, then." Sarik said softly, wrapping Sable's hand around his cock and showing him how to stroke. He was so very hard, the heat of him making the lotion all the more slick. He felt incredible in Sable's hand, and he wished he had more time to touch the man before Sarik eased his arm away.

Now it came down to it. This was the moment, the single act for which his parents had sacrificed so much, for which his body had been waiting. Sarik pulled Sable's knees up and over his elbows, leaning down to support himself with one hand by Sable's shoulder on the mattress. The other he used to guide himself to Sable's entrance.

"Are you ready, Sable?" Sarik asked, his calm voice finally beginning to splinter under the weight of his own desire.

"I'm ready." Sable answered, letting out one last breath. Sarik took his time, just as he had with his fingers, and eased himself in little by little.

"It hurts…" Sable moaned, wishing he could be stronger through this, but unable to keep from clinging to the man desperately.

"I know, sweet thing, I know." Sarik muttered, his voice tense and husky. Sable realized that it must be nearly as difficult for Sarik to restrain himself than it was for Sable to take him in. Sarik leaned down over him to brush their lips together, soothing him somewhat as he continued to ease inside. Then he buried his face into the side of Sable's neck as he spoke hotly against it, "Relax your muscles as much as you can. Nearly there, dear one, nearly there."

Sable was so unused to being called anything besides 'lad', 'boy', or his own name that his heart jumped at the endearments. It took away from the sting of his body, as Sarik pushed farther in than his fingers had reached. He obeyed, relaxing despite the pleasure, and it did help. Finally, Sarik stopped moving, fully sheathed within him. The man drew his head from its resting place in Sable's neck, and he looked down into Sable's eyes. Sable swallowed in amazement when he held their gaze through his own slightly teary vision; Sarik's eyes were glowing. There was a literal light glowing within their deep wells, and Sable desperately wanted to know what color they were as the unearthly sight continued to astonish him.

"Sable Knight," Sarik said, his tone firm and commanding while still soft, "I hereby Mark you with my sign."


	11. Chapter 11

Sable was unable to look away from those inhuman eyes as they glowed like hot coals. The pupils were tiny slits, which could have made him look frightening, but the extreme warmth of his expression was too kind. Sable felt like those eyes were burning into his very soul, and he knew that even if he wanted to he would not be able to look away. It was Sarik who broke their stare after several seconds, sliding his eyelids over those enticing eyes, and beginning to thrust. At first Sable just panted and clutched Sarik's arms, the burn uncomfortable, but eased by the lotion.

This is really happening, Sable's mind thought foggily, I'm actually having sex…on some level it was unbelievable to him, but the warm circle of Sarik's arms as they enfolded him made it all very palpable. Sable's own arms went about the broad back, holding on tightly as the movements became easier inside him. Sarik began to smother his ear in kisses, his hot tongue tasting the delicate curve, panting hotly into it, sending shivers of pleasure down Sable's neck and into his chest. He was trying to comprehend how this was all happening; he was enveloped by the man, surrounded and impaled by his body, but very little of his weight burdened his own small body. Sarik must be leaning all his weight on his elbows as he held Sable close, and thrust within him. It was surprising that the man would take care to be sure he was comfortable to such an extent.

"You feel wonderful, Sable." Sarik gasped, licking at his neck, "you're so hot inside, and so very tight…are you alright? Does it still hurt?"

Sarik's voice now sounded strained and husky, making Sable realize that holding back was most likely just as difficult for Sarik as accepting him was for Sable. Sarik had been moving very slowly, easing in and out at a leisurely pace, so Sable wasn't exactly hurting anymore…it was just uncomfortable. Sarik's words of concern, however, touched his heart and he answered,

"I'm alright…it's starting to feel better I think."

"Oh, just wait until I've found that place once more." Sarik declared, catching Sable's lips in a hot kiss. This one was tinged with passion, more frantic, more needy, more hot. Sable's head was spinning between the kiss and the slickness of the man moving inside of him, and the strong arms holding him. Sarik's tight torso was rubbing against his own member, adding to the pleasant side of the act, keeping him from being so focused on the strangeness.

Sable also concentrated on the feel of the man's skin beneath his hands, where they held onto his back. He was so firm in his muscles, but his skin was smooth. Not soft, just smooth and lovely and warm. Sable ran his hands over the backs of Sarik's shoulders as the man worked to find an angle that would please him. He had never touched anyone like this, and it was so nice…

Then Sarik thrust his hips forward at a different angle, and white hot brilliance burst through Sable's body. Sarik had found that place.

"Ah! Oh my god!" Sable cried out, his hands tightening on Sarik. The man chuckled, and hit that spot again, and again. Sable jerked his own hips upward unintentionally, eager to add what he could to feel that place, hard. The pain melted away in face of the overblown pleasure, and Sarik began thrusting harder, faster, making Sable moan and cry out, fingers scrabbling at the man's back and arms.

"I'm so glad you feel it, Sable." Sarik said, the last coherent words that would be spoken from either of them for a while, as the pace began in earnest. Sable had never felt such explosive pleasure for so long in his life, and he felt like it was killing him, but in the best possible manner. He arched and thrust and gasped, losing himself completely in the sensation. After several long minutes of this, Sarik made a loud gasping sound and pulled up to brace himself on his knees, taking hold if Sarik's hips and pounding into him tightly, his pinpoint precision driving the head of his cock against that magnificent pleasure-spot within the boy. Sable began panting like he was being chased by death, legs beginning to flail slightly at the intensity of it all. It was glorious, not just the pleasure, but the connection. He could feel Sarik, could understand him through what they were doing. In the foggy depths of his mind Sable was sensing a deep inner glance into the man, the dragon, above him.

He was a kind person, but ruthless when he had someone to protect. His sense of duty was so strong that he had become a Marker at an 'early' age. Sable felt vaguely frightened as these insights flooded into his brain, as if by some channel that had just opened in his soul. He could not stop it, did not know how to stop it, and so the knowledge continued to flow. Sarik frowned upon war, but believed in protection, the two opinions clashing within him all the time. He loved flying when he was in his dragon form, and hunkering down on a hot cave floor he had just blasted with his own fiery breath.

Sable began to shake, feeling something profound occurring to him as the pleasure, the knowledge, and the fear raced through him simultaneously. He could not put it into words, but it surrounded him, burning his skin not unpleasantly. Sarik stopped suddenly and pulled out, quickly repositioning them so that Sable sat astride his lap, both of them sitting up. As he thrust back in, Sable felt one large hand holding the side of his head, and it was so hot that it felt like it was burning him. It was bliss, total bliss and excitement and ethereal…

Sable felt his release building in him strongly, so close he could sense himself right on the brink. His hands clamped down hard onto Sarik's shoulders, and he began tossing his head, groaning as the pleasure reached a point that he had never before known.

"Come on, let it all out…" Sarik whispered into his ear, rough and dirty sounding. "Let it go, my sweet thing…"

Sable gasped, his body jerking in response. He felt it; his orgasm rising, about to explode through him. He forced his tightly-closed eyes to open and stare directly into Sarik's glowing ones. They penetrated his own deeply, conveying the depths of his enjoyment. It was a strong conveyance, one that struck Sable deeply. A name, floating from the unknown channel still open in his mind, flowed from his mouth, wanton and desperate,

"Sorrin!" Sable cried, and he saw a flash of shock in Sarik's face before he cried again, "Sorrin!"

Then he was lost, jerking and spilling his seed more strongly than he had ever thought was possible. The pleasure was intense almost to the point of pain. His hot need spurt forth to cover his belly and he quivered through the exquisite feeling, fingers tightening on Sarik's shoulders hard enough to leave red marks. Sarik growled, an inhumanly raw sound of pleasure and release as he stopped thrusting, and Sable felt liquid heat gushing within his quivering walls. Sable had thrown his head forward against Sarik's shoulder, and was unable to see the man's face, but that sound sent chills all through his body.

A chorus of pants reached Sable's ears, the sound of aftermath. He relaxed against the man, his body still shivering with aftershocks of dulled pleasure rolling through him. Those warm hands ran up and down his back a few times, and then his body was clumsily, but carefully, laid back onto the bed. Sarik's own heavy body collapsed right beside him, arms still around him loosely. Sable felt his mind and body alike easing down from the almost unreachably high place they had both been seconds before. The channel of intense knowledge closed up quickly, leaving him with less and less memory of what he had learned while it was open. A heaviness overcame his limbs and his mind, leaving him helplessly limp in the caring embrace of the one who had just guided him through the most incredible experience of his life.

It may have been a long time before Sable realized he had been dozing off, it was hard to tell when he felt so good. The silence of their breathing told him they had both recovered, and then Sarik's hand was stroking through his hair, and the man was whispering to him.

"How are you, Sable?"

Sable took a second to think of the right response before he answered,

"Fantastic…"

Sarik chuckled lightly, and pulled him closer, kissing his forehead a few times and leaning his chin against it tenderly. A few more moments went by before a thought came to Sable, causing a shock of curiosity to wake him up fully.

"Sarik?" He asked urgently, shifting for the first time in the man's arms so he could look up into his face, "Your Mark…is it there?"

He knew it was something of a ridiculous question. Of course the Mark would be there, that was the entire point of the evening, and yet he couldn't think of any other way to find out but to ask. Sarik eased away from Sable so he could prop himself up on one elbow and look down at him completely. His eyes, no longer glowing but back to their normal state, widened when they took in the sight.

"What?" Sable asked, feeling nervous, "what is it?!"

Sarik reached out and cupped the side of his face, brushing his thumb against the boy's cheek as he said,

"Sable…I…" He had to take a short breath before continuing, "I've never seen a Mark like this in my life…certainly not from my own Markings…"

"What does that mean?" Sable asked, fear returning to him. But Sarik just smiled, washing away the shocked expression he had been wearing.

"It means that you, my dear one, are going to be extremely successful."

"While I'm glad to hear that, it doesn't answer my question." Sable said, sitting up, feeling the leaden weariness of love making draining from him.

"I could describe it to you," Sarik said, sitting up as well, "but I'd rather you see it for yourself. I think you're going to have to in order to understand."

The man got out of bed, Sable blushing at the sight of his toned, naked body as he bent over to retrieve his robe and slip back into it. He reached out an encouraging hand to Sable, who took it and let the man help him off the bed. He winced as his backside ached with his movements. Sarik noticed, and slid a supportive arm around Sable's back, leaning down to whisper to him,

"Sorry, I'm afraid you will be a little sore for a while, but we have a solution for that."

Sable's heart warmed at the action and the words, feeling more and more like he was truly spending the evening with a lover rather than a man who had been hired to take his virginity. Said man led him to a small doorway on one side of the huge room. Sable had not noticed it before, and found that it was the doorway to the bathroom. When they entered Sarik put his hand over Sable's eyes, guiding him forward until he made him stop. Then he slowly removed his hand and said,

"Open your eyes, Sable, and look upon your Mark."

Sable took a deep breath, and then obeyed. His jaw dropped at once, and he gasped. Sarik had led him to a giant mirror above the sinks in the bathroom, and now he was staring directly into his own face. His hair was…it was just as Sarik said; a most incredible Mark. While Sable had no idea what color it was, it was certainly lighter than his own black hair, and unavoidable even to his eyes; it matched the dragon's in shade, and it looked like almost half of the left side of Sable's head was covered with it. Sable had seen very few Marks in his life, but he had certainly never seen one as large and noticeable as this.

He reached up to finger a few strands of the new shade in his hair, and swallowed, glancing at Sarik in the mirror.

"Sarik, I…" He did not known what to say, was still trying to take in such a drastic change to his own body.

Sarik slid his arms around Sable from behind him, holding him close and resting his chin on the boy's shoulder.

"Marcus was right, Sable; you are very special. Your future will be very blessed."

They both just stood there for a few more minutes, admiring the Mark, and then Sarik frowned slightly and asked,

"Sable, why did you call out another's name?"

Sable looked up at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Near the end, when you were feeling so good," Sable blushed, "you called out a name different than my own."

"I did?" Sable asked, frowning himself.

"Yes, a name that I know, a name that no one but I and those closest to me are aware of."

Sarik's voice was very serious now, almost angry, and Sable gulped as Sarik turned him around and held him to look into his eyes.

"Did someone tell you that name, Sable? Don't lie to me; this is a very serious matter to me."

"No! No, I promise you! I don't even remember calling out anyone's name, let alone one that I've never heard!"

Sarik searched Sable's frantic face, finding honesty in his wide eyes, and his own face softened.

"I apologize, Sable. It was just so surprising and…" Sarik sighed, wrapping Sable in his arms again, "don't let it trouble you, I must have been…mistaken."

Sable felt odd about the interaction, not understanding what had just happened. The incident was forgotten soon, however, when Sarik led him to the shower, and they cleaned off. Sable had never been bathed by anyone before, aside from when he was young, and it was a very pleasant experience. Sarik's hands scrubbed him with soap, massaging his muscles and making him sigh with pleasure. Those long fingers worked shampoo through his newly-marked hair, making sure it was as clean as could be so it would look fine in the morning.

Sable had expected them to dry off, but instead Sarik led them, dripping wet, out into the room. It was then that Sable remembered the hot bath that was in the corner. He slipped into it easily, letting the hot water ease the pain in his lower back. When Sarik gestured for Sable to come closer he did not object, but sidled up against him, the feel of Sarik's skin slick in the water. They kissed for a while as they sat there, eased and happy with one another's presence. Sable felt like he had fallen into heaven, and didn't know what to do with himself. By the time they dried and slipped back into bed, Sable was nearly asleep on his feet. As Sarik drew him in close to his body, Sable frowned, noticing something.

"These are different sheets." He said.

"Yes, Marcus changed them while we bathed.

"What!?" Sable asked, feeling embarrassed, even though the man was well aware of what they had been doing it was somehow awkward to think of him changing the sheets right after they had done it.

"Do not worry, Sable." Sarik said, nuzzling his nose against the boy's freshly cleaned hair, "just rest now. We're going to spend the day together tomorrow, don't forget. You'll want to rest up so you can enjoy it."

Sable had never tried to sleep next to someone before, let alone pressed against another's body. It was strange at first, but his weariness calmed him and he enjoyed the touch of flesh on flesh, the rise and fall of Sarik's broad chest, and the absent-minded stroking of the man's long fingers along his shoulders. AS he drifted off, he wondered how he would ever return to life without this man.


	12. Chapter 12

Hi everybody! Sorry for the loooong wait, but I had to give this story a little bit of a wide berth for a while. Also, hopefully this won't ruin your own image of Sarik (for all I know it will help it) but in my mind, Sarik is Benedict Cumberbatch. And no, it has nothing to do with him playing the voice of Smaug in The Hobbit, I had him in mind waaaay beforehand, actually, ever since I started watching Sherlock. He was partially the inspiration for this story, but I just thought it was high time I let everyone know so you could visualize it in your heads lol. Imagine him with hair the color of...ohoho...you have to keep reading to find out colors lol. Enjoy!

((()))

Sable had not slept in the same bed with someone since he was very small and he would snuggle with Ebony. It was much different now, when he was used to sleeping alone, and in a very small bed. He rolled over a few times during the night and felt the warm body beside him, feeling instantly guilty as he wondered if his sharp elbows or knees had jabbed the man. Unfortunately there was a side of reality to go along with all the romance, and it was not as comfortable to sleep beside someone as it sounded in stories. He had fallen asleep wrapped in Sarik's arms, which had been easy to do when he was so comfortable and felt so very content. They did not quite stay as entangled throughout the night, as they both shifted in their sleep. By the time morning came, Sable woke to find himself almost entirely off the mattress, one of his arms dangling over it along with the matching leg. As he sluggishly realized how ridiculous a spectacle he must look and shifted onto his back, he heard a low chuckle. He turned his head on the pillow, squinting against the sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains. Sarik was bending over him on one elbow, looking down at him with sparkling eyes.

"Good morning, sleepy." The deep voice said teasingly, and Sable blinked as soft lips pressed to his own. He drew back belatedly, covering his mouth with a sleep-weary hand.

"My breath…" He mumbled, aware of how foul it must be this early in the morning.

"You're so amusing." Sarik answered, stroking his fingers through Sable's disheveled hair. "Do not concern yourself with such trivial things. I want to kiss you."

He tipped Sable's chin up toward him and placed another gentle kiss on his lips. Sable accepted it reluctantly, still aware that he was not picture-presentable like all the romantic poems indicated lovers were the morning after. Sarik did not seem to care in the slightest as he stroked Sable's face and hair, gently bringing him to full wakefulness.

"God, your hair is so bright..." Sarik muttered as Sable pulled himself into a sitting position and the full force of the morning sun struck his disheveled and newly-Marked hair.

"What color is it, anyway?" Sable asked, realizing that he had never actually asked the night before. Sarik pulled him in close to lean against his own strong body and whispered in his ear,

"Red. As red as the finest ruby."

Sable nodded, wishing that the statement made any kind of sense to him, but still happy that he could attach a name to the unknown color that he bore.

"So...it matches yours just right?" Sable asked, looking up into the exotic cat-like eyes of the man who cuddled him.

"Like it was grown from my own head." Sarik affirmed, stroking his fingers through the hair they were discussing. "It looks striking with your own black hair, I must say."

His face fell slightly, and it was not unnoticed by Sable.

"What is it?" Sable asked, suddenly worried at the look.

"I'm just wondering...when we go out into the city today..." Sarik sighed, stroking Sable's arm, "you might receive a great deal of attention. I'm not sure how your appearance will go over with the public."

"Because your Mark is so large?" Sable asked, remembering what Sarik had said the night before about the unusual size. The dragon nodded, and they sat there in silent contemplation for a moment or two.

"Well, no use wasting time." Sarik said, shifting Sable off of him and sliding out of bed. "Let's eat our breakfast and see how the world will treat us today."

"Alright." Sable said, lacking the confidence that Sarik obviously had from years of living in this place and knowing how it flowed.

As Sable moved to leave the bed as well, he yelped suddenly as pain shot up his nether regions. He stilled instantly, discouraged from movement.

"I apologize, Sable." Sarik said, rounding the giant bed to the boy's side. "I tried to be as careful as I could, but you were a virgin regardless so it follows that you would feel discomfort."

Sable felt a strange stab of wistfulness at the words 'you were a virgin'. He had been enjoying Sarik's presence so much he had not dwelt on the fact that he would never again be what he was before the previous night.

"You were exceedingly gentle..." Sable told the Sarik as the man took his hands and helped ease him off the mattress.

"I'm glad." Sarik told him, and tipped his chin up to steal a soft kiss. Sable was so unused to the sweetness of such a touch, and felt his body shudder in response. He vaguely wondered if Markers were even allowed to touch Wards after the one night had passed.

His thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"That will be Marcus," Sarik said, pulling back from him, "come to take you back to your room so you can prepare for the day."

"Alright, then." Sable said, as Sarik led him to the door. He blushed as he paid attention to the way the man walked; he was so tall, his back sinewy and strong, with shoulders that were just broad enough, but not overly large, and his neck...Sable swallowed as he admired that glorious column of pale flesh. The man was perfect. He fell somewhere between slender and muscular, and it was such a fascinating balance that Sable felt himself wishing he had more time to admire that body.

Sarik opened the door and Marcus was waiting for them, fabric draped over his arms.

"Good morning to you both." He said, surprising Sable by bowing to them. When he rose up, he asked, "Lord Eres, do you give your approval for your Ward to be donned in your color for the day?"

"I give my approval wholeheartedly." Sarik said, sliding his arm around Sable's shoulders to give him a squeeze. "My Mark was given and received."

Sable realized that this must be some sort of ritual, and wished that someone had informed him. He wondered if he was supposed to say anything. Obviously his input was not needed, as Marcus gestured for him to follow. The man's warm eyes widened when they fell upon his Mark, and his mouth even opened slightly.

"C-come with me, Sable, and we'll get you dressed."

Sable looked back at Sarik over his shoulder when Marcus led him to the top of the staircase. The dragon was leaning against the doorframe, smiling at him. Sable smiled back, and then hurried to catch up with Marcus.

An uncomfortable silence reigned in Sable's guest room as Marcus dressed him. The satiny robe was not something that Sable would normally wear, but obviously he was expected to. It was similar to the one he had worn the night before but was not very long, reaching about to his knees with a pair of clinging trousers beneath, but it still seemed more costume-like than regular clothing. The pattern that had been at the bottom of the other robe now tangled through the waist of this one, complimented by the thin rope belt that Marcus fastened there. It was obvious that because of the cold hardly anyone would even see it unless they were indoors for any stretch of time. He would also be wearing his own boots, Marcus informed him, which made him feel more comfortable.

Throughout the dressing Marcus had remained silent, and then as he finished sliding long socks onto Sable's feet, he stopped and looked up at him.

"You are truly blessed, Sable." He said softly, and stood to look down at the boy. "I would never tell you this if I were not so moved by knowing you, but the Wards that Lord Eres has been receiving lately have not been granted substantial Marks. Certainly nothing like yours."

"What do you mean?" Sable asked, confused. "I thought a Mark of any kind would grant success."

"It does, but..." Marcus hesitated, looking conflicted, "I should not be telling you this... but however the public interprets it, the truth is that the size of a Mark indicates the chemistry between Marker and Ward, or you could call it 'compatibility'. The more compatible you are with a dragon, the larger your Mark will be. Whether people actually know this to be true of not is mere speculation, but it is common thought that the larger the Mark, the better, because of the..."

Marcus cleared his throat for a moment before gathering his words again,

"To be blunt people think the size of the Mark indicates the level of enjoyment the dragon received from the sexual encounter."

Sable blushed furiously and he unconsciously forked his fingers through his own hair, very aware of just how huge his Mark was. Marcus continued,

"Have you ever asked yourself why dragons leave these Marks in the first place? Unlike with high-ranking humans who have to use a brand?"

Sable was too embarrassed by the man's earlier statement to speak, so he simply nodded.

"I have been told time and again that the reason is a secret, known only to dragons themselves. Suffice to say, it apparently plays a very important role in their culture."

Sable tried to take in this information as Marcus began combing out his special hair. He watched in the mirror as his shorter locks were straightened. That strip of lighter hair, the first three to four inches of hair sprouting on the left side of his head seemed to scream attention. So he and Sarik were...compatible...Well that had been obvious to him from the moment he had started speaking with the dragon. He had thought it was just his adolescent brain trying to navigate him through an impossible situation; form an attraction to the one who was going to be taking his virginity whether he liked it or not. The man was mouth-wateringly sensual, and it was easy to say that Sable felt completely smitten with him, even if it was some trick of his young head, or the intense emotional connection that comes along with intimacy. Either way, Sable could very easily believe that the Mark truly did represent the quality of the sex...but he had also said that was no more than a widely-accepted rumor.

"So...what does this mean, since my Mark is so large?" Sable asked quietly. Marcus sighed as he continued his work with the comb.

"To be honest, Sable, I have no idea." This answer did little to settle the uneasiness that began to rise in Sable's chest. "I suppose we'll have to find out together."

(())

Breakfast with Sarik was something like a fantasy. They did not take the meal in the usual dining room that Sable had been used to using with Marcus. Instead they were in the grand dining hall where the arching ceilings were gleaming marble and the floors were the same, the table running almost the length of the room. There were high windows on either side, letting in the pale winter light. Sarik and Sable sat at the very head of the table, closer together than normal guests would sit. Sable felt this was Sarik's doing, as he noted his chair was a bit farther away from its neighbor when he first went to sit down.

The man insisted on feeding Sable bites of strawberry hotcake and fruits like a flirtatious youth...but one who knew very well what they were doing. His mood calmed Sable, who had been pondering and questioning ever since Marcus had finished preparing him for the day. As soon as he had laid eyes on Sarik at the breakfast table, however, he had felt his uncertainty drain away from him.

"My sweet little thing." Sarik told him, as he placed a hand on his cheek and watched him blush. "You and I are going to have a wonderful day. Is there anywhere in the city that you did not get to visit with Marcus? Or anything that you might want to buy?"

Sable began to shake his head, but then a thought came to him. The shift in his mind must have shown on his face, because Sarik grinned and said,

"Aha! I saw that look! What is it? Just name it."

"Well..." Sable said unsteadily, "There was this one little store we passed on our way to a shopping center...it was a jewelry store. There was a phoenix in the window?"

"Body Reborn." Sarik confirmed, nodding knowingly and taking a drink from his coffee cup. "They sell jewelry and also do piercings and body art. What was it you wanted in there?"

"A...a piercing." Sable said. He saw the surprise in Sarik's face as his cup paused coming up to his face.

"A piercing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly?"

Sable nodded, feeling his cheeks heat. Sarik's warm laugh eased his shame and made him lift his eyes to the man's.

"I would have never guessed that you would go for a style like that." Sarik said. "But if that is what you wish, we'll make it our first stop."

"Thank you, I'd like that."

"Anywhere else come to mind?"

"I'd really rather just let you show me your favorite spots, I suppose." Sable answered. "I'll be going home tomorrow and...and I'd just like to spend time with you before I have to say goodbye. I don't really care where we go."

Something unreadable but incredibly sweet passed over Sarik's face at those words, and he smiled softly. Leaning forward, he took hold of Sable's hand and looked into his eyes

"Sable, I say this to you from my heart; I feel as though I do not deserve your kindness."

"My kindness?" Sable sputtered, "No, no, it is you who have been unfailingly kind to me!"

"It works both ways, Sable." Sarik assured him, stroking his hand with his thumb before placing his lips against it. "You have blessed me with your sweetness, and I will miss your presence when you are gone."

Sable had no idea how to respond to that statement. This entire situation seemed to be developing too fast, too intensely. This time yesterday he had not even laid eyes on Sarik Eres, and now all he could think about was how much it would hurt to be parted from him. It was ridiculous. Insane. Impossible. But it was the truth.

(())

Sable immediately noticed the stares and pointing fingers once he and Sarik stepped out of the carriage. They had decided that they would drive a certain amount of the way and walk the rest, as parking was always limited here in the heart of the city. The carriage would come for them again when they decided where they wanted to go next. They made their way up the busy street to Body Reborn, and Sarik clutched Sable's hand as the passersby began to take notice of the young boy with the huge streak of red hair that matched his tall dragon companion's. These city people were not at all shy about what caught their eye.

Sarik led him more quickly down the street as the attention began to mount, as though their destination would somehow provide a barrier from scrutiny. He mumbled an apology to Sable as they entered the glass doors to the welcome chime above them.

"It is not your fault that the people here are rude." Sable said with a smile.

"No," Sarik replied, "but I take full responsibility for this." He flicked the red streak with his fingers and Sable smiled wider.

"Well...I should hope so." He replied, trying to sound flirtatious. He thought that he sounded silly, but by the way Sarik kissed his forehead he had been successful, and he let the triumph flood his heart.

They began to browse about the store together, Sable focusing on the earring section. He had not admitted his motivation for wanting a piercing, but in truth he had seen many foreigners come through Nardak with hoops and studs in their ears, and they always had the appearance of being slick characters. Sable had thought that these piercings were the crowning addition that made them 'cool'. Ex-virgin or not, Sable was still a boy and thought like one.

"How about this one?" Sable asked, holding up a card with a pair of black-silver hoops. Sarik looked down at the jewelry critically, and Sable could tell by the firm line of his luscious lips that the man was not thrilled with his choice.

"You don't think they'll look good on me?" Sable asked tentatively.

Sarik paused for a moment before taking a little breath and speaking.

"Why does it have to be a piercing?" He asked gently. "You are so beautiful, I would hate for you to make a decision that would deface your body, and might cause you regret down the road. Not to mention how your parents would take it."

Sable bit his lip. It was odd to even hear his parents mentioned, after what Sarik had done to him. He may have been fourteen, but he had been treated like an adult, so why should his parents' opinions matter in this regard? He wanted to comment on how his parents had paid good money to give his body away, so they should have known what they were getting into. Saying nothing, he simply placed the card back down where it had been displayed. Sarik sensed his indecision and discomfort, and patted his back suddenly, saying,

"How about a compromise?"

Sable perked.

"How would that be possible?"

"Wait here a moment."

He let go of Sable's hand, leaving the boy to stand on his own in the corner of the small shop. The attendants had been too busy with other customers to do more than gape at the pair of them when they entered, but now Sarik managed to get their attention. Sable pretended not to be interested in what Sarik was doing, knowing that the dragon wanted to surprise him. So he stared at the rows of earrings before him, wondering if the ones he had selected happened to be some ugly color instead of black like he had thought. There was no way for him to make that determination. It would have been easier if he could tell why Sarik had rejected them. He knew this place must be filled with colors; there was a stunning mural that wrapped from one corner of the store to the other, depicting a phoenix in flight, its fiery wings and tail streaming out behind it and leaving stray flames behind. The stands of jewelry were all so bright, and the fantastic artwork available to be printed onto the body was so many shades, he just knew it must be a dazzlingly colorful place.

A moment later Sarik came back over to him, stepping up behind him and whispering,

"Stand still a moment." Sable felt his heart speed up as warm fingers brushed the hair back from his right ear and then began touching it. Something cool and metal was slipped over the outer curve of his right ear, and then it squeezed the cartilage a bit as Sarik's fingers pinched it closed.

"What..?" Sable asked, confused as to what it was.

"Look and see for yourself." Sarik said, turning him to look into a small round mirror that hung on one of the displays to their left. Sable peered into it, and his face lit up. A band of metal hugged the top curve of his ear, displaying a single small gem amongst the intricate pattern on the silver. As Sable moved his head the gem caught the light and sparkled.

"It's an ear cuff." Sarik explained. "Easier to take on and off, not to mention it doesn't leave a hole in your flesh."

Sable swallowed as he admired the ear cuff that Sarik had picked out for him. Somehow it was even more painful that the man did such kind things, when Sable knew he would soon be parted from that kindness.

"Sarik..." He began, then smiled again. "It's incredible."

"I'm glad you like it." Sarik said, sliding his arms around Sable and looking at him in the mirror. "The gem is a faux ruby, just the color of our hair."

That statement caught Sable by surprise and he felt warmth overtake his heart. His affection for Sarik was growing every minute he was with him. Sable almost began to hate him for endearing him to him so quickly. He had told himself these kinds of situations with Wards and Markers were nothing more than fantasy, and he wanted to believe it now, but he could not. Every fiber of his being was aching to be near this man for as long as he could. Again, he was reminded of just how idiotic such an emotion was after such a short period of time. But there it was, he could not deny how he felt. He only wished he could sense it Sarik felt the same way, or was just going through the motions.

Sable wore his ear cuff proudly when they stepped back out onto the street into the crowds of people. He was beginning to see that the crowds came in waves, sometimes thinning out before growing thicker with people again. At first they were walking too quickly alongside too many people for there to be too much mayhem over Sable's appearance, and that was the way he had hoped it would stay. As they continued their way, however, that changed. Random people or groups of people began to come up to them and ask to take their picture. It was odd for Sable, but Sarik would simply smile, put his arm around Sable and oblige so that the nuisances would go away. It once more made Sable start to think, 'am I a nuisance like that to him? One more annoyance that he placates with a smile?'.

They were able to find a bit more peace when Sarik led Sable into a museum, where the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. This museum was dedicated to the history of the city, and Sable was fascinated by the exhibits they saw. Even here, however, people came up to speak with them. It was different than on the street, however. These people were more suave with how they went about approaching the aspect about the two of them that really attracted their notice. Sable was thankful when they entered a small arena-like room for a digital video showing about Nueton's past. It was darker in here and no one could see them clearly. Sable savored the feel of Sarik's fingers playing with his hand, and it sent shivers up and down his arms. It only made him more confused, however, and gave him the courage to whisper,

"Sarik, can I ask you a question?"

He knew it was rude to speak during the video but there were few people in this showing, he and Sarik were in the back, and their whispers could only be heard to one another.

"Of course, Sable." Sarik answered. Sable had to gather the wits to go on, encouraged by the dim lighting which hid Sarik's face somewhat.

"Are you..." He stopped and swallowed before continuing, "Are you faking all this? Because it's your job?"

In the pale light cast by the screen, Sable could see that Sarik looked surprised and even a little...hurt? He could not judge in this poor lighting.

"Faking what, my lad?" Sarik asked, his fingers ceasing in their playful wanderings down Sable's hand and now just gripping it.

"Being kind to me." Sable said, and couldn't look the man in the eyes as he felt shame overcome him for asking such a question. "Like how you were to the people on the street; they were bothering us but you put on a smile and let them do what they wished. Is it...is it the same with me?"

When Sarik did not answer at once Sable launched forward, whispering rapidly,

"I know I shouldn't ask you about this here, but it just started eating at me, and I feel like if I don't ask you about it now I'll go the rest of the day with this dread in the pit of my stomach. I'd hate to think of you tagging along with me because you are simply being paid and hating it all the while. I understand that this is a job for you regardless but that doesn't mean you'd have to be unkind. I mean, I know that you don't have to treat me kindly if you don't want, I've heard stories of some Markers who treated their Wards terribly. I just...I've come to like you so much and I...I don't want to be played for a fool. Just because I'm from Nardak doesn't mean I'm entirely ignorant. I...I enjoy your company so much and...the thought that the part you play in that is a...a lie...I just..."

Sable stuttered to a stop as he realized how awkward his words were, and how quickly he'd let the emotions within himself spew out. His father hated overly emotional displays. He would be so ashamed of him at this moment. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. He couldn't bring himself to look at Sarik, feeling like he had single-handedly ruined the mood for the entire day. Even if that mood had been fake, at least it had been a rosy one. He should have just kept his mouth shut and gone along with it because-

"My dear Sable." Sarik slid even closer to him on the seat, wrapping him up tight in his strong arms and kissing his temple. "Sweet thing...I would never fake my feelings with you. Trust me, I've had Wards I have disliked in the past for one reason or another. I am polite, but I never fake anything. I truly enjoy your company, and I'm so glad that you were brave enough to be honest with me about your own concerns."

These words soothed the ache in Sable's chest like a mint balm, and he relaxed into Sarik' embrace as he continued to whisper into his ear,

"I've come to like you too, Sable. To be just as honest with you, I am more fond of you than I can ever remember being of any Ward since I began placing my Mark on humans. You are so fresh to me, so pure and sweet. These city boys and girls that are my norm are so filled up with selfishness that they have no room for affection and kindness like you have. You are so full of good qualities they seep out in all your facial expressions...I will honestly miss you when you are gone. I'm not even sure how to feel about that...considering that we only just met."

Sable was about to respond when the lights came up, and Sarik pulled back to put an appropriate distance between them.

The rest of their stay in the museum was light-hearted for their little conversation, and Sable was truly happy. He could have cared less now about the stares. He even felt so confident that he suggested that they walk to their next location rather than have the carriage pick them up. Sarik decided that he would show Sable around a local park that was nearby. The walk there was actually not as far as it seemed, but they were stopped constantly for photos and even members of the press who happened to be walking down the streets. When they arrived at the park, Sarik said,

"You will most likely be asked for an interview before today is out at this rate."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Sable asked, breathing in the air that seemed fresher here in the space of the park. Winter or no, something about the speck of nature within the high man-made towers gave the illusion of clearer air.

"I suppose not." Sarik replied, thinking it over. "As long as it was what you wanted. Remember, you are definitely something special. The world might try to take advantage of that. It is up to you whether you want the entire city to know by being on an interview."

"I think...it might be alright." Sable said, thinking about the possible publicity for his father's business more than anything else.

Before Sarik could say something else, a voice called to them.

"Sarik Eres, and my new friend!"

Both Ward and Marker turned to see Kavieh Sentinne walking toward them, bundled in a fine tweed coat with a big fur hat on his head. It could have been his imagination, but Sable thought he felt Sarik stiffen a bit at the sight of the man.

"Hello again." Sable called back, not wanting to be rude to the only acquaintance he had made in the city on his own.

"Still here in the city, I see." Kavieh said as he approached them.

"I don't leave until tomorrow." Sable confirmed, wondering how this man seemed to pop up at the most unexpected times. Kavieh halted in his approach when he caught sight of Sable's hair. Something seemed to play out on his face just then, like a series of emotions that flashed by too quickly for Sable to identify or understand.

"My word." Kavieh said softly, his face settling into a wide-eyed stare of wonder.

Sarik let go of Sable's hand to wrap his arm around the boy's shoulders. Sable could not help but feel that this was a defensive gesture, despite the calm smile that graced Sarik's lips.

"It is quite brilliant, is it not?" Sarik asked, pride lacing his voice. Sable bit his lip as he smiled too.

"You hit your Mark, that's for sure." Kavieh said to Sarik, chuckling a bit at his own pun before his face grew serious once more. "Oh, lad, I am so happy for you."

"Thank you." Sable replied, feeling strangely awkward with how much emotion this total stranger was displaying toward his Marking. He supposed some people just attached quickly, and Kavieh had become fond of him.

Kavieh cleared his throat, wordlessly acknowledging how strange his behavior was, and held out his hand for Sarik to shake. The dragon shook it firmly, and then Sable did the same.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day, if I may ask?" Kavieh asked, rubbing his leather-gloved hands together even though it was obvious they must already be warm.

"We're making it up as we go." Sarik answered.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"I think we were planning on it next." Sable intoned, looking up at his Marker, who nodded.

"Could I be so rude as to impose upon your meal? Take you to the absolute best place for a good steak, what do you say?"

There was a short pause in which the hesitation on Sarik's part was nearly palpable, making everyone uncomfortable. But then the dragon flashed a smile and said, "Why not?" the mood shifted to one of lightheartedness once more. Sable was left thinking more and more why Sarik reacted to Kavieh like he did, and also why Kavieh seemed to appear every time Sable stepped foot beyond Sarik's front door.

(())

Lunch was slightly awkward at first. It seemed apparent to everyone that Kavieh was being quite an imposition and was only there because Sarik was too polite to refuse him. However, Sable sensed that there was some reason that the man insisted on accompanying them despite how rude he appeared. It was not as if he was dull company; he held very intelligent and stirring conversation. It was more the mystery of why he seemed to stick to Sable like glue that had him curious.

"Anything you'd like, on me!" Kavieh said when they first were seated.

"How kind of you, Kavieh," Sarik said, "but I am more than capable of-"

"I insist." Kavieh rebuffed, waving away Sarik's protests. "I want to give something back after all."

"Are you rich or something?" Sable asked before he could bite his tongue. He felt instantly ashamed; that was absolutely one question you were never supposed to ask. He stumbled over an apology. "What I mean is that, uh, you must have enough to give back since you said you wanted to give back, it means you can, so-"

"Relax, my boy." Kavieh said, sending him a wink. "I believe I've told you already that I enjoy your honesty. I'll be equally honest and tell you that, yes, I am rather blessed financially."

Sable glanced over at Sarik to notice that his fine jaw seemed set a bit too tight. He turned back to Kavieh.

"Come to think of it, Kavieh, you've never told me what you do for a living."

The man smiled and reached for his menu, commenting,

"I haven't? Hm, I suppose I didn't really say."

"He made most of his money in government before hanging up that cloak to dedicate his fortune to various charities and virtuous organizations." Sarik answered, his eyes never leaving the glossy menu he was scanning. Sable frowned, and asked,

"But, then, how do you keep bringing in money?"

Kavieh looked reluctant, but answered,

"Certain positions in government continue to pay after the ones who held them have finished their terms. I held one such position, and so I utilize my continuing affluence to help others."

"That's incredible!" Sable spouted, eyes lighting up. "I would love to have that kind of life! I'd help everyone in my village if I had that kind of money! Mostly my parents, though."

Sarik grinned at the innocent sincerity in Sable's excited tone. Kavieh did the same.

"Would you really, Sable?" Kavieh asked, the question seeming genuine. "What would you do first?"

Sarik lowered his menu at this, looking at Sable with interest, awaiting his response. Without a second thought Sable replied,

"I'd build my parents a decent house."

A silence followed his words. They had been spoken so softly, but with such conviction...the raw truth and longing in his voice stunning the two men sitting at the table with him. After the silence threatened to become crushing, Sarik asked gently,

"Oh? Why is that, Sable?"

"Because the walls we have now are so thin they let in all the cold of the winter. We sleep in layers of clothes and still wake up with numb feet. The wind is harsh out on the plains, so it eats away at what walls we do have. We have to repair them constantly. In the summer the roof leaks because shingles are expensive, and we can only afford enough to patch up the holes. The house is small enough though that the roof is small too. The bedrooms are tiny, only about seven feet across, and the kitchen is about double that. Father's workshop is big though, and the only part about the house I wouldn't change; all of our money goes into keeping it outfitted, and it's actually very nice."

Sable's voice was not bitter, not angry, just factual, listing off the various hardships with a casualty that spoke of years suffering them. When he had finished neither man knew what to say, and Sable could see that. He and instantly tried to correct the impression he had given, even if it had been truthful,

"I mean, we're not starving or anything! It's not like we're living in poverty-"

"It's alright, Sable," Sarik assured him, patting his arm, "you don't have to say anything like that."

Sable relaxed.

"It's just that...if I could, if I had money like you, Mr. Sentinne, I'd like to build a house that could actually...be a restful place."

"That's very noble of you, Sable." Kavieh said quietly.

The heavier mood was broken by a waiter who came by to take their order. Kavieh ordered steak for all of them, and the conversation turned to lighter topics for a while. Sable marveled at the flavored sparkling water they were all sipping, having never tasted it before. Sarik made a few comments about how his trade in DragonSkin was continuing to be profitable, and Kavieh seemed to simply respond to whatever his companions said. Sable realized that he was not speaking about himself at all if he could help it. He may have only been fourteen, but he had learned to read people through his help selling in the marketplace, and he felt strangely suspicious of Kavieh now. Why was he so eager to spend time in their presence? And why no details about his past work and current life? Sarik's aura seemed to generate an uneasiness that Sable could not help but detect, making him all the more curious about this entire situation. It was like there was something unpleasant that both men were aware of, and were desperately trying to avoid saying.

Kavieh somehow managed to avoid direct questions about what he had gone in government, and why, all the way up until their steaks were brought out. Sable forgot all about the odd atmosphere at their table when he took his first bite. The conversation turned to the excellent steak for a while, before they were interrupted.

"Excuse me." A woman had approached their table and smiled at them. She was dressed in a tasteful but pretty suit top and shirt, her hair styled fashionably, and a dark shade of lipstick accentuating her mouth. "I'm so sorry to intrude, but I am Nadia Dacara from UTV 103. I couldn't help seeing your Mark, young man, and I just had to risk appearing rude in order to ask you for a few moments of your time."

"Oh, um..." Sable folded his napkin, and looked to Sarik.

"Up to you." The dragon said, smiling gently.

"Alright, um...what do I do?" Sable asked.

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions, if you'd like to come over to my table?"

"Alright," Sable said, pushing back his seat and standing up, "I'll be back," he said to the other two.

As soon as he could be sure that Sable was out of earshot, Sarik turned a firm glare upon Kavieh.

"Kavieh, what is the meaning of this?" He asked harshly.

"Don't get upset, Sarik, I promise I won't reveal anything to him, I just..."

"What?" Sarik cut him off, "Just what, Kavieh? You are violating your own terms simply by being here, how can I trust you will not break the contract completely? When you are the one who called for such secrecy, you have a strange way of upholding that wish yourself!"

Kavieh set his jaw and straightened in his chair.

"I never intended meeting him. I happened to see him at the art gallery that night and...could not keep myself from speaking with him. After that it was as if...I was drawn to him and could not stay away."

Sarik pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not the one who is personally involved in your intentions, Kavieh. I agreed to your terms because Marcus was the one who brought your proposal to me in the first place. He cares for you a great deal, and even he was shocked when you began interacting with Sable."

"Can you really say you are not personally involved?" Kavieh asked, leaning forward to say in a quieter tone, "I need only glance that Mark to see that the bond you formed last night is something special, more special than any other Mark made before. I can tell by how you treat him that he is not just another client for you."

"Of course he isn't!" Sarik all but growled, his voice upset but low, "From the very beginning he was different; you know that better than anyone. When was the last time a poor boy from an outlying village received a Dragon's Mark? He was special from the instant his proposal was brought to me. Even I cannot say what there is between us after last night...it is...surreal. But that does not change the fact that you are walking a dangerous line if you are truly concerned for that boy's emotional well-being, and I would ask that you-"

"He's coming back." Kavieh interrupted him, leaning back into his chair to assume a relaxing pose. Sarik did the same, though his heart was still beating with the desire to say more. Sable returned to the table alone, holding a small card in his hand.

"Is the interview over so soon?" Kavieh asked.

"Well, she actually stopped asking me questions when she found out where I was from; she became excited and said that it would be a better story if I were to appear on their morning program. She wants the interview to go out live."

"Did you agree?" Sarik inquired, slicing off another bite of his steak. Sable held up the card.

"Yes." Sable held up the small card, showing an address and appointment time, "It's just that I want people to know me if it means business for my father. Perhaps if your Mark draws attention to me, it will call attention to him too, and help him out a bit."

"Then it sounds like you have your first Television appearance." Kavieh said with a smile, "This calls for a toast. Gentlemen, if you would lift your glasses?"

Sable grinned as they all raised their sparkling water.

"To Sable, and his future endeavors!"

They clinked their glasses together and drank. Almost immediately after that a loud tone rang out like a shrieking bell. Sable jumped, unable to see where the sound was coming from.

"Bloody..." Kavieh murmured, "Just when we were getting into our steak, too."

Sable noticed the sudden buzz about the restaurant as people began gathering their things and leaving their tables as if in unison. Sarik and Kavieh began to do the same as the tone rang out over and over, as if on a loop.

"What's going on?" Sable asked, slightly panicked. Sarik pulled on his own coat, and then began hastening Sable away from the table, taking the boy's coat as well.

"Don't worry; we're close enough that we'll be fine. It's just a blizzard warning."

"A severe one, at that." Kavieh said.

Sarik helped Sable slip into his coat, and then he took Sable's hand and held it tightly as they were caught up in the crowd.

"I suppose this is farewell, Sable," Kavieh called to them as the crowd pushed them further apart, "it was a fine time!"

Sable did not have a chance to answer as the sea of people poured them out onto the street. Even more people were scurrying around out on the pavement, while the ever-present alarm bell continued to toll. Yet all the while he held fast to Sarik's hand, which never left his own. He saw Sarik pull out his com and call for the carriage. They ended up on the corner of a street, watching the carriages and vehicles zooming by. The air had turned distinctively colder, and Sable noticed the darkness of the sky. It had been overcast all day, but the clouds now blocked out the sun even more, and the snow was coming down thickly, blown about by the wind. Sable pulled Sarik's head down to ask in his ear, above the sound of the alarm,

"What does this mean for the rest of our day?"

Sarik smiled and pulled him in close against his body. Sable was glad to be this near Sarik, while other people were pushing around them to cross the busy streets and hail transporters. He was solid, unmoving, as everything else moved around them, and Sable slid his own arms about the man to cling on tightly.

"I suppose we'll just snuggle in and follow the Blizzard Broadcasts." Sarik spoke back into Sable's ear.

"What's a Blizzard Broadcast?"

Sable realized that they must look quite the infatuated pair standing on that corner with arms around each other, faces together as they spoke into each other's ears. He closed his eyes and just let himself breathe in Sarik's masculine scent as he listened to his answer,

"It's a series of programs especially recorded for blizzards, when people are hunkered down and watching their screens. Films that are set in winter with lots of ice and snow, documentaries about the formation of snowflakes or animals that live in cold, harsh conditions. It's all about setting the mood, while the weather reports are on the bottom left of the screen. It's the same handful of programs every time, but that's what makes it a Nueton tradition."

Sable let this knowledge sink in, and then burst out laughing, his body shaking in Sarik's strong arms.

"That sounds ridiculous." He said honestly. "That's all you do during a blizzard? At my house we have to stuff the cracks in the walls with our seasonal clothes, and keep the inside fire going by bundling up and chopping wood every few hours, and keep boiling water to pour onto our pipes so they don't freeze, and -"

Sarik suddenly laughed and pulled back slightly. He gazed down at Sable with those lovely, inhuman eyes and cupped the side of his face with one large hand.

"You are such a treasure, my sweet village boy..."

In the span of a second Sarik's mouth was against his. Sable's heart fluttered; there was something insanely, darkly romantic about being kissed like that in the midst of a turbulent sea of worried, rushing people while alarm bells sounded to warn of a dangerous natural threat. The sounds of shouting and vehicle engines still filled Sable's ears as his mouth was devoured by those soft lips. His mind wandered, washing everything away apart from the silkiness of that kiss. His arms were compelled to slide up and around Sarik's neck, holding on as their kiss lengthened moment after moment.

The sudden loud blare of a horn broke them apart, and they saw that their carriage was waiting to pick them up a little ways down the street. At least, Sarik saw it, and started pulling Sable along behind him toward it. Sable's mind was still reeling from that amazing kiss...

The rest of the day literally passed with Sarik and Sable reclining on a deep leather sofa with their feet propped up before a fireplace, watching the giant screen that hung above the mantelpiece. Marcus brought hot chocolate to them, a drink that Sable only ever had once or twice a winter if he was lucky. Sticks of peppermint candy added a delightful bite to the flavor, and Sable felt that heaven could not be any more wonderful than how he felt that afternoon. The blizzard did indeed howl around the house, whistling through the iron and metal forest that grew around them, unseen in the clouds of hustling snow.

While they sat there together for hours, they would often mute the program on the screen and talk for long periods of time. Sable asked Sarik questions about his dragon-form. He discovered that Sarik was a smaller breed of dragon known as a 'Niria', or 'Redthroat'. He compared himself to the size of Sable's house after hearing the boy describe it, and figured his wingspan would be twice the length of the roof. As for his body, he said that he was relatively small, perhaps two or three times larger than a draft horse's, but relative to body size his chest was broad, making way for the large lungs his breed needed to survive the altitude of the mountains. His scales were the same shade as his hair (a fact that Sable was more than happy to say he knew), but even the inside of his mouth, his tongue, and the flesh of his throat was the same tone of red, earning his breed their name. Sarik explained that there were other species of dragons that were also red, but his kind was the only one with red mouths and throats. He lived in a colony of his own kind in a series of caves, 'like a beehive' he described it, riddled in to the side of a massive mountain named 'Ravrahos', or 'our rock'. He explained that there were close to fifty of them in their one colony, old to young, being a fairly good size for their breed. The larger the dragon, the fewer the colony members.

Sable was again able to pipe up and explain that he and his friends saw a number of Verti dragons in the forest every summer. They were so small that they looked like a huge flock of sparrows, their green scales allowing them to blend in to the vegetation easily as they ambushed small forest creatures by spitting sticky saliva. Sarik had laughed at Sable's comment about how he wished Verti were one of the few dragon breeds who had the ability to transform into humans, because they would be the smallest people he could ever imagine. They then had a laugh together while speculating how foot-tall humans would survive and make a living if Verti really could transform.

Sarik asked questions of Sable as well, just as he had done the night before, learning more about the boy's family, his village, and his way of life. Sable explained to him that he thought he was a rather stupid child, hardly able to read, only just managing to write due to the tradesman lifestyle of his village. He told Sarik about the lively festivals held in the summers, and the dances and songs that he had known since birth. He described the ironic beauty of watching his father at work, and the varieties of foods that they normally cooked and ate. He even blushed as he mentioned the girl, Sakome, whom he had used to fancy when he was younger. The villagers had teased the pair of them about getting married ever since they were small because out of all the boys, Sable was the only one who would play with Sakome and let her join in with the others when they went off exploring or roughhousing. They were too good of friends now to consider such a step, but Sable admitted that he had never thought either of them would have any other option when they came of age.

By the time they had finished an excellent dinner of pasta and the cold world outside had turned pitch black, they had shared more about themselves and their lives than either of them had in years, if ever. The companionship between them settled over them like physical warmth. It was a sorrow when they both realized it was high time to part ways and retire for the evening. Sarik told Marcus that he would be the one to escort Sable back to his room, and they left the great dining room.

"You'd better be sure to sleep well," Sarik said after they had climbed the winding staircase and were approaching Sable's door, "you have to look bright-eyed for that interview tomorrow morning. Are you nervous?"

"A little." Sable admitted. "But I think it might be fun; and I really want to promote father's business."

"Good idea." Sarik said, tapping a fingertip to Sable's nose and making the boy grin. "Publicity is publicity, so I would seize that opportunity whenever you can."

"Any attention I receive is all thanks to you." Sable said, and as he said it realized how sappy it sounded. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean." Sarik said, shushing him with a finger on his lips. "You constantly try to apologize for your honesty, Sable. Did you realize that?"

"I do, don't I?" Sable said, sighing, "I'm sor-"

He caught himself, and they both chuckled. They reached Sable's door then, and the boy turned the doorknob, and stopped. A silence fell then that seemed not exactly awkward, but somehow intense. They each sensed that they should separate, but neither of them wanted to say or do that. They were looking one another directly in the eyes, but no words were passed between them. Sable felt his heartbeat speed up and his breathing as well. He felt it hard to hold that elliptical-pupil gaze for long and his eyes fell instead to that full mouth. He licked his own lips slowly.

"I should...get to bed..." He muttered hazily, his voice sounding husky and strained.

"If you must." Sarik replied, his voice in a similar state. Sable swallowed, feeling himself moving closer to the man, who moved nearer as well.

"G-g-good night, then..."

They were standing less than four inches apart, hands sliding up each other's arms. Their eyes softened, breaths came heavier, bodies radiating heat.

"Goodnight..."

Their lips sealed together, tender and sweetly painful. As they made to pull away it was as though some irresistible force drove them back together, and desire exploded within them both. Hands began to grope, bodies collided, mouths crushing together. Sable slid his arms up and around Sarik's neck, pulling him down into the fierce kiss as though terrified he would try and escape. Sarik held him tight around the waist, his hands pawing at Sable's hips. It was incredibly hot, furious, sensual, and delicious. They had not kissed like this the night before, like they were lovers starved for each other after being apart for a long span of time. Yet that was what it felt like. Despite spending the entire day together, it was as though they had not seen each other at all. Perhaps being so close all day and not doing this was the cause; one more second without the other's hands on them would drive them mad.

Sable groaned and Sarik pushed him back against the door, which was already standing open. It swung all the way back on its hinges until it made contact with the inner wall of the room. Sable went with it, and was pinned against it when it was stable. Sarik continued to devour his mouth, and Sable continued to reciprocate, feeling so desperate he thought he would weep. It was mad, utterly mad. The desire was like pain shooting through their hearts, and only being together like this would soothe it away.

Sarik released a loud, hot breath against his cheek as he nipped his chin and buried his face into Sable's neck. The boy gasped and yanked at Sarik's hair as the shivers ran down his belly to his hardening cock. That mouth was sucking on his flesh, leaving little bites and licks as it went and Sarik's hands were still kneading his hips, making him squirm into their ministrations. Sable loved this, loved being backed against a wall with only this man to keep him there and drive him wild. But as much as he enjoyed his position, he wanted to feel those soft sheets against his naked skin.

"Sarik..." He moaned, like some small animal, "...bed..."

"Oh yes..." Sarik breathed, sounding more aroused than Sable had ever heard him last night. Sable was yanked away from the door, and backed toward the bed, his mouth once more being plied by those unbelievably soft lips and tongue. His legs felt like noodles, and he stumbled a few times but always Sarik's hands steadied him around his waist, his rump, his shoulders...Sable managed to reach the mattress just in time to fall onto it as his legs truly collapsed beneath him. Sarik's weight came crashing down upon his body, but it didn't hurt. He loved it, and clutched at his back, holding him closer as he was ravished. His head was spinning and he couldn't fight it, couldn't question whether this was right or wrong, couldn't think beyond what was happening right now, with this man in his arms.

"One more night..." Sarik moaned as he began pulling at the belt of Sable's robe, opening the front to reach his collarbones and chest, planting frantic kisses all over the boy's pale flesh.

"Just one more..."

The door gave a small creak as it swung ever-so-slowly back into place, and then closed with a soft click.


	13. Chapter 13

(Sorry this chapter is SUPER short, but it was a very important one, and I wanted to post it alone.)

Sable eased into wakefulness with a small smile. The bedclothes around his naked skin were soft, as was the head nuzzled into his chest. Hot little puffs of air bathed his nipple as Sarik breathed in and out deeply in his sleep. The boy shivered as the sensation caused the nipple to harden now that he was aware of it. Memories of the previous night instantly flooded him, warming his thoroughly-loved-over body like liquid. Passionate was hardly a descriptive enough word. Wild came closer to capturing the fierce kissing, greedy sucking and licking, firm stroking, and intense thrusting that had brought them both an unearthly level of pleasure. It had been unlike anything Sable had experienced before. As if their minds had completely abandoned them, they had attacked one another with pure desire, pure emotion. There had been no thinking involved, no one asking why, no thoughts of consequences, just unbridled need and want. It had been incredibly intense, but had passed so quickly and left them both so exhausted that they had simply fallen asleep in each other's arms.

Sarik now stirred in Sable's arms, and the boy grinned, rolling his eyes slightly beneath still-closed lids.

"Move, you great bloody dragon..." He murmured, pushing weakly at the head cradled in his arms, "you're teasing my nipple with your breathing."

He heard Sarik utter an earthy chuckle.

"What a line to wake up to." He replied, his own voice thick with sleep as well. He did move his head, as requested, to lie on the pillow next to Sable's. He placed soft kisses on the boy's cheek and neck, twining his arms around the lithe form beside him.

"Well, it was a true one." Sable yawned, turning to blindly find his way to Sarik's neck and tuck his face against it. Sarik stroked his back lovingly, and his hair.

"It's morning, you know, Sable." He stated, his voice a bit more awake, and tinged with sadness. "You have that interview, and then..."

"Then I have to leave." Sable answered, inching closer to the warmth of the man as if denying the statement. There was a pause before the boy asked, "Will you be there with me? Or do I have to say goodbye to you here before I head to the television station?"

"I can go with you to the interview." Sarik assured him. "I would never let you go alone."

"Marcus would be with me." Sable pointed out.

"True, but I want to be the one to stay by your side."

Sable's heart jumped at the words. Then it twisted with the utter unfairness of the situation. It was cruel to let him fall so hard for a man who slept with teens like him for a living, who would never belong to any of them and Sable least of all.

The boy finally opened his eyes, meaning to look up at Sarik and say he knew not what. The second he lifted his head and his lashes fluttered open, he shrieked and covered his eyes with his hands in terror.

"Sable? What's wrong?!" Sarik asked, startled and grabbing hold of Sable's shoulders. The boy was trembling violently all over, still holding his eyes.

"I-I d-don't know!" Sable replied between frightened breathing, "My eyesight; something's..."

"Let me see your eyes." Sarik urged him, gently tugging at his shaking arms. The boy let him lower his hands from his face, and with great breaths he slid his eyes open again. He started the second he could see; staring into Sarik's face as though he were the most terrifying object he had ever seen.

"Do they hurt?" Sarik asked, stroking Sable's face and trying desperately to glean information that might help. Sable shook his head ever so slowly as his eyes began to dart here and there, taking in the room. "Then what's wrong?"

Sable choked, lifting a hand to his chest as if to consciously slow down his exceedingly rapid breathing. He had to close his eyes again and try to take deep breaths to calm himself. He clung to Sarik's arm as he did so, thankful for his kind hand bracing either side of his frightened face. After a few long seconds like that Sable opened his eyes once more, and gulped.

"Color." He gasped out.

Sarik cocked his head, not understanding. Sable's expression of fear transformed into one of overwhelmed amazement.

"Color!" He said more urgently, sitting up on his knees and grabbing Sarik's shoulders now. "I think I'm seeing in color, Sarik!"

Sarik's jaw dropped in equal surprise and wonder.

"Are you sure, Sable?"

"Yes, yes!" Sable cried, and slowly cupped the sides of Sarik's face, gazing down at him with the intensity of one who has never seen a human face before. The boy took in all of it; the light flesh tone, the pale blue/green eyes, the pink lips, and...

"R-red..?" He asked shakily, running his hands through the wealth of Sarik's tresses. "This is...red?"

Sarik slowly smiled, and nodded. Sable shakes his head, a huff of exhilarated laughter escaping him.

"What color are your eyes?" He asked.

"Blue and green." Sarik replies.

"What about the sheets? What color are the sheets?!"

"Gold."

"And the curtains?!"

"Sable, just calm down." Sarik said with a chuckle, as the boy flew off the bed and began to run to and fro about the room, stark naked, looking, touching, laughing.

"How can I bloody calm down?!" Sable all but yelled, the loudest Sarik had ever heard his voice. "I'm seeing in color, Sarik! Do you realize what this means?!"

Sarik knew that Sable was not really asking, so he did not try to answer, and the boy went on,

"I can hold my head high when I return home; I'll be able to learn father's trade, and inherit the business after all! I can make a living!"

Sarik eased himself out of the bed, and as Sable watching him coming closer, he began to cry. Tears of joy began to stream down his face, and he reached out for the man to steady himself.

"It's a miracle, Sarik..." He sobbed quietly, "How did this even happen?"

Sarik kissed the top of his head, rubbing the boy's shaking back.

"I have no idea..."


	14. Chapter 14

The world was as new to Sable as though he had been born that morning. Literally everything and everyone he saw held such incredible fascination for him that he was overwhelmed. Color was brilliant, almost hard to look at with his eyes that had never known more than grey, black, and white. It almost hurt him to keep his eyes open, everything was so vivid and somehow filled with limitless meaning. An apple was no longer an apple; it was a red apple, a red apple that implied this particular fruit was an apple, and not an orange, which was in fact a completely separate fruit named specifically after its color. With something as small and everyday as this becoming such a wonderment to him, it was difficult to get through breakfast and packing and readying himself to leave. All the while he was asking anyone who would answer about this color or that.

His eyes began to sting with the amount of tears he kept shedding. He could not hold them back; miracles were not something to just accept and disregard, they made one aware every second how incredibly their lives have been changed. Sable especially wept when he unfolded the sweater his mother had made him, and his eyes beheld the lovely baby-blue for the first time. He clutched it to his chest, sobbing happily.

"Sable?"

The boy jumped as he heard Marcus' voice behind him. He turned to see the man standing in his doorway. He had not been present at breakfast because he had been making preparations for Sable's departure. Sable quickly wiped the tears out of his vision so he could look on the man more fully; his dark chocolate hair, warm brown eyes, and rather tanned skin. He looked so different in color; the warmth of the man was reflected in every shade.

"Marcus..." Sable choked out, swallowing to clear his voice, "Did you hear? Did Sarik tell you?"

Marcus nodded, his expression hard to read. Sable felt slightly uneasy as he was unable to determine if Marcus was upset, struck with amazement, or just confused. His next words did little to help reveal his thoughts.

"Yes, Sable, Lord Eres has informed me."

"This...this changes my life, you know..." Sable said, feeling no obligation from him but wanting at least some small sliver of excitement from the man who had been looking after him for so many days. He almost received it, in the form of a small smile gracing Marcus' lips.

"That, my dear lad, is most certainly true."

With that Marcus stepped forward and grasped Sable's shoulder with a firm hand, giving it a squeeze before he began helping Sable pack.

The trip to the television station nearly gave Sable a headache with all the different shades and variations of color to be seen throughout the city in the clear morning light. The weather was crisp and clean after the blizzard of the day before, and Sable experienced his first appreciation for a blue sky, devoid of clouds. He could not stop standing up and looking around out of the windows of the carriage like a frantic child, having to control his shrieks of amazement at every little thing he saw. While the miracle of being suddenly graced with the ability he had pined after all his life, there was yet one more positive aspect that Sable became aware of; his preoccupation of color distracted him from the approaching departure from Sarik. The realization hit him painfully every other minute, only to be washed away by a new shade of color he glimpsed in the clothing of a passer-by, or in a shop window. Sarik seemed to love watching him caught up in the thrill of discovery. He was patient with him, answering all his questions, and explaining the basics of color theory that Sable had heard from his father time and again but never understood until now.

"Sable, are you ever going to sit still?" Sarik asked him as he watched the boy pressing his face against the glass for the hundredth time in two minutes.

"I don't think I possibly can." Sable said without looking at him, eyes fixed on the fashion store they were passing.

"Don't make me pull you into my lap and hold you down like a brat." Sarik chuckled, but Sable did not appear to have actually registered and understood his words, as he was so focused on the passing sights and making little sounds of wonder. Sarik shared an amused look with Marcus, who was sitting across from him on the other seat. After Marcus raised an eyebrow at him, Sarik reached out with one arm and snatched Sable around his waist. The boy yelped in surprise as he was indeed thrown across Sarik's lap and squeezed in a tight bear hug. He chuckled himself at Sarik's playfulness, and relaxed into his affectionate hold. Sable looked up into the gorgeous blue/green of Sarik's eyes, now so much more vivid than he could have ever imagined them, and not for the first time that morning reached up to twirl a long lock of bright red hair around his fingers, marveling at the magnificent shade.

Sarik looked down at him as well, and Sable was absolutely surprised when soft lips descended onto his own. His first thought was of Marcus sitting right there watching them, but as the warmth of that beloved mouth seeped into his own he closed his eyes and reveled in it, knowing that before two hours passed it would be gone from him forever. When Sarik pulled back Sable smiled sadly up at him, and leaned his head against the dragon's strong chest. He closed his blessed eyes to let them rest for a while, listening to Sarik's heartbeat above the muffled sounds of the carriage and the city. He missed the slightly disapproving look Marcus cast Sarik, and the helpless one he received in return.

By the time they arrived at the small television station, Sable was nearly worn out simply from the trip. Sarik eagerly helped him out of the carriage however, whispering in his ear that he looked 'very smart' indeed. Sable blushed slightly. He wore the lovely blue sweater proudly, and his work-worn trousers that seemed to be the style in the city anyhow, along with his favorite leather boots, complete with rows of straps and buckles. He was more than aware, however, of his prized ear cuff clinging to the outside of his right ear. When he put it on that morning he took time to admire the ruby set into the beautiful silver metal. Sable had taken a long time to stare at his hair also before they left Sarik's house; struck by the vividness of Sarik's Mark, and wondering if it was actually...a bit...larger? Hard to tell since it had only been a strip of grey to his eyes before.

Sable all but clung to Sarik like a frightened child when they entered the building. Marcus had assured him that this broadcast was smaller and overshadowed by the main channels, but the atmosphere was still unlike any Sable had been a part of. People bustled about with clipboards and spoke into devices clipped to their ears, or held in their hands, camera crews were attending giant cameras and other equipment that stood here or there, and the lights seemed incredibly bright the second they entered. They were told by a man at the lobby desk to wait, and a few moments later the woman who had called him aside in the restaurant appeared around a corner. Nadia Dacara, she had introduced herself as yesterday. Sable drew in a breath at the bright shade of fuchsia on her ample lips. He had noticed it before, but never having been able to see the color, had thought that perhaps her lips were naturally dark, and so now he was quite startled.

"Sable! I'm so glad that you agreed to be here this morning!" Nadia said, holding out her hand and shaking his. Sable gasped again at the sight of her fingernails. They matched her lips.

"Your lips!" Sable blurted, unable to keep the question inside. "And, your nails!"

She looked taken aback for a moment before Sarik came to the rescue.

"It is cosmetic, Sable."

"Oh," Sable murmured, "I'm sorry..."

"Apology accepted..." Nadia said uncertainly, then squinted at him, "Excuse me, but I have to ask...yesterday when we spoke, you mentioned that you were colorblind, which was part of why I took an interest in your story but...is that why you found my makeup strange? Does it look too dark grey to you?"

Sable didn't know how to respond, and gaped like a dying fish. Thankfully, Sarik once more set the situation at ease, slipping an arm around his shoulders and saying proudly,

"Ma'am, I do believe we can report a miracle."

Nadia looked surprised and slightly skeptical at first, but then Marcus spoke up,

"Ma'am, this boy woke this morning with the ability to see the full spectrum of color, inexplicably."

Her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped.

"You're putting me on." She said, with a tone that implied she hoped they weren't. Sarik placed one hand over his heart, and said,

"I swear upon my word as a dragon that Sable Knight here was completely colorblind before this morning. Trust me; with the shriek he gave when he opened his eyes, I am convinced he was not lying."

Nadia gave a secretive, almost suggestive smile as she replied,

"You saw him when he first opened his eyes this morning, did you?" Her wink made Sable smile awkwardly. Marcus took a step forward and cleared his throat.

"If you think we are lying, I'm sure that Sable would not mind performing a simple colorblindness test. I'm sure that there are records from his childhood indicating his condition."

Sable felt his heart stop for a second; there were no records of eyesight in Nardak. What need would anyone have to write down in some medical chart that he could not see colors? The only reason they went to the physician was if they were terribly injured, and thankfully that had never happened to Sable before. But then...how to prove anything...

"No records will be necessary! I'm sure that a dragon would never stake his word of honor on a lie. Well, this is just marvelous news; this story will make our viewer ratings skyrocket! Please, Sable, come this way, and you as well, Sarik."

Sable was about to ask how she knew Sarik's name, but thought better of it, deciding that reporters had magical powers of investigation. Sable smiled at the squeeze of Sarik's hand as they followed the pretty woman down a hallway, and then through one of the many doors on either side. It was a very bright room, with rows of lights along many mirrored walls. Chairs and counters lined the space, the scattered make-up items clueing Sable right in on the fact that this must be where the reporters and newscasters made themselves camera-ready. As the thought struck him, Nadia placed a hand on his shoulder to lead him toward a chair.

"You just sit right here now, and let Mariana pretty you up for the viewers."

Nadia gestured to an even younger woman who was standing beside the chair.

"Not that I think you need much help." She said as he sat down, "You are so cute already I won't need to do much of anything!"

"That he is." Sarik said with a chuckle, and Sable bit his lip as his cheeks flushed. The two women made small approving sounds together at the display of fondness.

"As sweet as your face is, I think everyone's attention will be up here." Marianna said, ruffling Sable's hair as he began to comb it out. "This incredible Mark is the whole reason you're here, isn't it?"

Sable met Sarik's eyes in the mirror before him.

"Yes." He answered with a soft smile.

Sable did not get much more time to look at Sarik after that, because Marianna began fluffing powder onto his face, which required him to keep his eyes shut. After she 'spruced' him up to Nadia's satisfaction, although Sable just thought he looked two shades too dark now that he could see his own pale skin tone, they were led back into the hallway. They reached a large room that was bustling with activity; crewmen were adjusting lights, cameras, and other various items of equipment that Sable could not name. A control room was visible through a window in one wall, where screens and panels filled with buttons that edited the program blinked and glowed. In the very center of the room where two tall chairs set up before a draped black curtain. Rows of cameras stood before them, along with blazing lights overhead.

"This is our multi-purpose studio," Nadia explained, "we use it for interviews, informational and demonstrational bits, those sorts of stories. Sable, go ahead and take a seat on the right so I can run through the interview with you."

Sable hiked himself into the tall chair, which was so high up that his feet had to rest on a rung set specifically for that purpose. He squinted against the brightness of the lights, which blinded him to almost all but Nadia sitting across from him, and Sarik, who stood to one side. His brilliant red hair stood out too starkly for Sable to miss now. Sable saw one of the various men and women moving about bring him a chair, which he gratefully took. Marcus refused one, and continued to stand beside Sarik.

"Now, Sable, I am going to do an intro to your story first, and then I'll begin asking you some personal questions. All you have to do is smile and answer honestly."

"He's very honest, ma'am." Sarik commented, smiling widely. Sable blushed slightly, and Nadia raised an approving eyebrow at the interchange.

"Good, then, that will make the interview much more relatable. Now, Sable there will be a surprise segment, meaning I am not going to go over it with you because we want you to be genuinely surprised on-camera."

"Oh," Sable said worriedly, "alright..."

"Don't look so nervous, sweetie," Nadia assured him, "it is nothing damaging, if that's what you're worried about."

Sable smiled in response as the woman continued to run through the program. It was fairly basic, from the few interviews he had seen before, which calmed his nerves somewhat. Sarik's strong silent presence was truly what set him at ease, however, when Nadia informed him that they were gearing up to go on. The hustling around them died down as all the various workers took their places for the broadcast. Sable felt his heart pounding, waiting for the signal. Nadia managed one more time to tell him not to be nervous, and to smile, before the main cameraman signaled them to go. Nadia produced a gorgeous smile for the empty eyes of the cameras, through which the entire city would be able to access them, and began speaking.

"Hello, and welcome to Riveting Revelations with Nadia! Today I have with me a very special guest: Sable Knight, a young boy from the small village of Nardak. While unknown to most just a few short days ago, he is soon to be in the forefront of everyone's minds as The Boy with the Largest Mark in Recorded History! When he arrived in Nueton for a traditional Marking, little did he know that he would leave it as an icon."

Despite all of Nadia's urgings for him to relax, Sable felt his nerves jumping as he heard the introduction. Where was she getting this information? Largest Mark in history? Was that even true? How did she have the authority or the references to call him an icon? Already Sable felt his heart plummet, and a quick glance to Sarik told him that Nadia's words had unsettled the dragon as well; he was frowning and looking confused. Marcus also looked displeased, even a little uneasy. Sable had no more time to contemplate, as Nadia turned to him,

"Sable, we are so glad to have you here on our show. Tell us, what was it like to come all the way from Nardak, in the heart of the wilderness, to such a busy metropolis like Nueton?"

Sable froze for a second, feeling slightly offended that she considered his hometown to be in 'the wilderness', and not even knowing what 'metropolis' meant. Her encouraging smile made him smile as well, and answer uncertainly,

"Well, um...it's certainly different."

Nadia was good at what she did; she did not let an awkward silence follow his clearly nervous and bland answer.

"What do you find to be the most different from your home in Nardak?"

She jumped in, and Sable only needed a split second to think about that before he answered,

"Everything, really. I still can't believe the buildings are so tall, and you can find a shop for anything you could imagine that you might want to buy...there's just...so much here. The number of people is still incredible to me."

"It is certainly a great change from your own small village, hm?"

"Definitely."

"Now Sable," Nadia said, her easy mood starting to relax him, "when I met you for the first time, I was startled by the size of your Mark. Were you aware of just how much you stood out with a Mark like that?"

Sable shifted slightly in the tall chair and answered honestly,

"I had some idea that a larger Mark was considered better, but...really, I thought a Mark of any kind was a blessing. I certainly never thought that I'd ever receive one, especially not from a dragon."

As soon as the words left his mouth Sable became nervous, wondering if he was supposed to say that his Marker was a dragon, but Nadia took that fear away.

"Yes, Sarik Eres is your Marker, isn't he?" She asked. Sable nodded rather than speaking. "How did you feel when you found out you would be receiving a dragon's Mark?"

Sable's smile faded slightly as he answered,

"To be honest...I was..." He looked down, ashamed now of how he had reacted to his father's words.

"Don't be shy, Sable, we can handle it." Nadia encouraged, making him chuckle.

"Alright, well...I was angry."

"Angry?" Nadia asked, her face becoming more serious as she leaned forward. "Why was that?"

"Think about it," Sable said, his cheeks burning and very aware of Sarik's eyes on him, "I'm only fourteen, and I never thought Marking was an option for me. So when my father told me out of nowhere that I would be Marked by a dragon...I was angry and...hurt...I didn't like the idea at all."

"Sable," Nadia said slowly, her eyes softening, "we appreciate your honesty, and it is no easy situation to be in at your age."

"It doesn't matter than much now." Sable said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because..." Sable realized what he was about to say, and had to all but force himself to believe that it didn't sound sappy, "Once I met Sarik...I wasn't afraid anymore."

He knew he was supposed to keep his eyes fixed on Nadia, that was something she had told him more than once while she was preparing him, but he absolutely could not stop his eyes wandering off-camera to where Sarik sat, smiling warmly at him. Nadia's small 'awww' turned his eyes back to her.

"Yes, Sable, we can all see just how much you and your Marker Sarik Eres get along; in fact, we have a moment-capture of the two of you out on the town yesterday that was sent in by one of our loyal viewers. No joke, this was captured in the midst of the blizzard alarm yesterday in downtown Nueton."

Sable jumped as an image was projected behind them seemingly out of nowhere on the black curtain. He then felt his heart leap into his mouth at the sight of himself, wrapped in Sarik's arms and being tipped slightly backward as the dragon kissed him. Their eyes were both closed, and the blurry images of other people running about them in a flurry of panic showed just how still they had been, wrapped in each other in that moment of chaos. Under any other circumstance, Sable might have been slightly embarrassed, but glad to have the moment captured for him to keep for himself. Now, however, he was nothing less than mortified, and he could not help his jaw dropping and his eyes popping at the sight. He laughed in horror, his hands coming up to cover his gaping mouth. Nadia laughed along with him.

"Is this moment-capture a surprise to you, Sable?"

"Yes, of course it is! I had no idea someone would..." Sable could not finish, but ducked his head, not really knowing what else to do.

"Don't go getting too bashful on us, Sable, as this photo is all over social wavelengths and being captioned as 'love is fearless', 'time stops for romance', and 'blizzard bliss'.

"Oh god..." Sable moaned in embarrassment, peeking out between his fingers, still smiling regardless.

"So you had no idea that you've become a celebrity overnight?" Nadia asked incredulously.

"No, I had absolutely no idea! I still don't believe anything of the sort!"

"While you're not believing anything, I have something else to tell you." Nadia said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Oh no..." Sable said, with a dramatic expression of one bracing to be struck hard.

"What would you say if I told you that your parents are watching this broadcast right now?"

Sable's face fell in utter shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Perfectly; we sent a crew to Nardak this morning to set up a screen for them so they could watch you live, and we are catching their reaction to play alongside this when we re-broadcast tonight."

Sable looked coy, grinning, actually beginning to enjoy himself. He supposed this must be the surprise segment that Nadia had told him about, even though the moment-capture had certainly not been in the itinerary.

"Should I believe you?" He asked cheekily, to which Nadia giggled and nodded.

"I promise, Sable, I am not lying; they are watching this right now. Now, do you have anything you'd like to say to them?"

Sable swallowed.

"Wow...um...well, if it's true, and they really are watching, then...I guess I'd say..." Sable looked right at one of the blank camera eyes facing him, "I miss you both, and um...I can't wait to get home today."

"Surely you would have something more to say, would you not, Sable?" Nadia asked expectantly, "Some very substantial news, perhaps?"

Sable felt like an idiot at her promptings and his face lit up as though an added light had flooded it.

"Yes! Um...mum, dad...I don't expect you to believe this, any of this, in fact but...I...I can see in color now." Sable felt himself actually choking up, tears obscuring his vision and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "I don't know how...or why but...it's true."

Nadia was silent for a few seconds as though to let the dramatic statement sink in with the viewers before she said softly,

"Am I right in believing, Sable, that before last night you were colorblind?"

Sable turned to look at her again, and nodded, wiping his eyes.

"Couldn't tell you one color from another. Well, I mean, I still can't. I've only been seeing in color for a few hours."

"Why do you think that is, Sable?"

The boy shook his head, looking amazed.

"I can only conclude that it's...because of Sarik. And his Mark."

Nadia let that sentence hang in the air a moment before asking seriously,

"Sable, are you aware that the largest Mark recorded in history...is half the size of yours?"

"I...no I had no idea."

"You and Sarik have made history. I predict that this interview, which if your first, will most definitely not be your last."

"I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. But you could ask some questions of your own, if you want."

"What...would I ask you?"

"Is there anything else concerning your parents that you might want to question?"

Sable felt a twinge of suspicion in his stomach, but slowly answered,

"Well, yes...my father is a cloth dyer. I could not continue his trade because I could not see color. Hopefully now that will change," He added with a grin, "but I still have no idea how they afforded the Marking I received."

Nadia grinned deviously, and Sable felt something odd jolt in his chest. From the corner of his eye he saw Marcus shift on his feet, and Sarik sit forward in his chair. He had the uncomfortable feeling that they did not like where Nadia was going with this.

"Sable, do you know a man named Kavieh Sentinne?"

Sable nodded slowly.

"Yes, we've met since I've been here in Nueton."

Sable was distracted by a small scuffling sound from off-camera, and he looked to see Marcus hurriedly trying to talk to the cameramen, and Sarik looked pale. He turned his eyes back to Nadia, who spouted off quickly, as though knowing she had little time,

"Were you also aware that he is the one who funded your Marking?"

It was as though the room flipped over. Sable frowned in confusion.

"No, no that can't be; we only just met. I hardly know the man. What reason would he have to do something so substantial for me?"

Now there were the definite sounds of a struggle coming from both Marcus and Sarik, and Sable looked in concern to see both of them being restrained by some of the crew as they attempted to break up the interview. But the statement Nadia had made was so intriguing that Sable wanted her to go on.

"Sable, the reason Kavieh Sentinne paid for your Marking is because he used to be a politician."

Again, there was a twist in his gut, uncomfortable and almost painful as a horrible suspicion bloomed in his mind. No...that couldn't be...

"Two years ago he was campaigning in Dersk, at a week-long trade market there."

Sable's mouth went dry, and he began to breath heavier, his eyes widening with the terror of what she would say next, what she had to be trying to tell him.

"Someone shot him. But the bullet went through his shoulder instead...and killed you little sister, Ebony."

The room was closing in on him, he couldn't breathe. Nadia's serious, concerned eyes were swallowing him up...

"Out of his guilt, he wanted to give you a better future. What a kind gesture, don't you think?"

In that moment, Sable knew he hated her. Behind the kind front she was displaying, she was secretly smiling, reveling in this juicy story that would increase her profit substantially. She had ripped his heart out, wounded him deeply with a secret that he wished he had never known, purely for profit.

Sable said nothing, just sat there, stunned, staring at her in shocked silence.

The long, horrendous moment was finally broken when Sarik managed to clear himself of the men restraining him, and tore out in front of the camera, instantly taking Sable by the arm and wrenching him down and to his side.

"This interview is over."


	15. Chapter 15

Loud, angry voices echoed through Sable's hazy consciousness as he felt Sarik pull him out from in front of the cameras. Everything sounded distant, as though he were under water. His mind was being crushed beneath the weight of what he had just learned, and was finding it impossible to support any other action. Kavieh Sentinne, the man who's failed assassination caused Ebony's death? Beyond that, he was the one who paid for Sable to receive Sarik's Mark? These to questions chased each other around and around like the spokes of a wheel, cutting down any other though processes. He was vaguely aware of Sarik spouting very irate comments about 'respect for personal lives,' and 'crossing legal boundaries' toward Nadia, who was spouting right back about 'the rights of the journalist', and 'public record breaks no law'. Marcus' deep voice interrupted both of them like a father pulling apart two children, and that was when he heard his own name,

"Think about Sable, you two! Break it up and get him out of here, Sarik!"

As always, Marcus was the voice of reason, and it snapped Sable into a slightly higher level of alertness. As he felt Sarik tug on his arm to lead him out of the studio, a flood of anger washed away his shock. It all made sense now; why Sarik was uneasy around Kavieh, why he tried to avoid him, why neither of them would tell him what exactly he had once done for a living. Sarik had known who Kavieh was all along. Sable suddenly dug in his heels, halting their progress in the middle of the hallway. Sarik turned back to him at once, a pleading look in his lovely blue/green eyes.

"Sable, we have to get you out of here, the other channels will be sending their top reporters down here just to catch sight of you before you leave. Come on, we must go!"

"You knew."

Sable's voice was thin, but quivered with an undertone of fury. Sarik frowned and stepped closer to him, huffing out a distressed lungful of air. Sable fancied that it actually felt...hot.

"We can talk about this later, but not here. We need to-"

"No not later! Right now, right this minute!" Sable demanded, in a stronger tone. "You knew this entire time and you never told me!"

Sarik looked helpless but upset as he tried to even out his breathing and speak calmly.

"I never lied to you, Sable." Sarik said, placing his free hand on Sable's other shoulder. "I never intentionally kept this from you to hurt you, I was bound to-"

He stopped speaking when he sighted the tears forming in Sable's angry eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking completely trapped.

"Sable, I am so very sorry...this was not how...you were never supposed to-"

"How did you know when I didn't?!" Sable bit out, his entire body shaking with hurt and rage. "And how could you keep it from me?"

Sarik spoke very low and very fast in response, his words tense.

"Kavieh came to me, Sable. He wrote into our contract that I should not reveal his identity to you under any circumstance. That was all, I knew nothing more but what he himself had legally bound me to do."

"Contract? What contract?"

"If a benefactor wants to arrange a Marking there is a contract between them and the Marker to ensure it is carried out to the benefactor's specifications. Once the documents have been signed they are legally binding, Sable. It would have been against the law for me to-"

"So you lie for a living as well as screw kids, so long as you're being paid, is that it?!" Sable lashed out, his fury blinding him to the flash of pain on Sarik's face at his harsh words. "You'd sign a contract that forces you to lie to me with a kind face, all the while hiding how I was even able to meet you? Listening to me rambling on and on about how little money my parents have and how incredible it was that they could even afford you, and all along you knew it was him!"

Sable became increasingly upset as he spoke, hot and angry tears burning down his cheeks, making pale tracks through the dark powder. All the while Sarik just stood, holding his trembling shoulders and staring down at the boy with horror, unable to object to a single word as he went on,

"You'd let me feel like I was someone special regardless of how many you've Marked before: kissing me in public and buying me gifts-" Sable faltered briefly, his breath hitching before he went on brokenly, -"sleeping with me when you've already made your Mark and have no more just cause to adore my body than your own desire! How could you Sorrin?!"

Sarik's brow retracted with shock at Sable's last word, feeling like volt of electricity had pulsed through his entire being. The boy seemed completely unaware that he had said anything out of the ordinary, but he was so worked up he wasn't thinking clearly in the first place.

"What did you just call me?" Sarik asked urgently, a hint of anger in his own voice.

"What?" Sable asked, "A liar? Are you trying to say you aren't one? You'd keep the secrets of a man like Kavieh Sentinne even if they're about my life!?"

Sarik squeezed Sable's shoulders and jerked the boy forward, trying to make him listen as his tolerance broke.

"Regardless of what happened to your sister, Sable, Kavieh is a good man and only wanted to provide for you!"

"Ebby died because of him!" Sable cried, wrenching himself from Sarik's hold and jerking back a few steps. "Do you know what it's like to lose a sibling?! To have a piece of you torn away, leaving you incomplete and aching to be whole again?!"

Sarik's face softened with hurt, but Sable was too hot to stop and notice the faraway serious look in the dragon's eyes, plowing straight ahead in his anger,

"Kavieh's the one who did that to me, and you helped him lie to me!"

"For gods' sake, Sable," Sarik said, raising his voice for the first time with his frustration, "all I did was obey my contract!"

A short, tense silence fell between them, in which Sable gasped quietly. A realization seemed to dawn on his anguished face. When he spoke next his quiet words shook with their own weight.

"I get it. Of course, how could I be so stupid?" He shook his head, wiping his eyes angrily, "It's a contract to you. It's your duty, and you kept it. I'm the fool; forgetting that I was no more than that to you."

"Oh, Sable..." Sarik's voice was stressed as though he too would weep. He reached out for the boy, but Sable recoiled as though from a poisonous animal. He bumped into someone as he stumbled back, and whipped around to find that it was Marcus. The man was maintaining a calm exterior despite the tense set of his shoulders. He made no move to try and take hold of Sable, instead holding up his hands in a gesture of neutrality.

"Sable, lad, this has hit us all hard." His tone was quiet and unobtrusive, "But if we do not leave this building at once, we will be flooded by members of the press from various channels that are on their way here, and I think that is the last situation you want to be in right now."

His words got through to Sable, and he understood them clearly, but the hurt was too close to the forefront of his mind, and instead he rounded on Marcus as well.

"You knew too, didn't you?" He accused, and the brief hesitation in the man's face was all the answer he required. "I can't believe it..."

"I knew that Kavieh himself requested that you know nothing of him. That is all. You can be angry at me later. Right now we are leaving." Unlike Sarik, Marcus gave him no choice as he herded him forcefully toward the back door of the studio. "I instructed the carriage to wait for us here."

As Marcus swung the door open, and they saw the carriage a short distance away, against the wall of the opposite building. As the three of them headed toward it, however, a voice rang out loudly,

"There he is! They're at the back exit!"

Sable turned in fright to see a man waving on an entire crowd of people, all of whom came charging around the corner of the building toward them. They were all carrying moment-capture bulbs and were already screaming out questions. The flashing of the bulbs being activated was blinding even in the sunlight, and the cameras held on shoulders and in hands stared him down with their blank eyes. Sable had heard of the press mobbing celebrities and politicians before, but never knew just how frightening it really was. He could not believe that they had all gathered here so quickly, mere moments after the broadcast from such a small station. He wanted to run, but found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move. Marcus literally picked Sable up under his arms like an infant and ran with him to the carriage, hurriedly and unceremoniously tossing him in through the door. Sarik was hot on their heels, and they managed to close the door and take off just as the crowd reached the carriage. It was a miracle that they did not run any of them over.

A stony silence deafened them all on the ride back. Sable stared blankly out the window, silent tears rolling steadily down his cheeks. It was such a contrast to the ride they had taken to get to the studio, when Sable had been so full of life and excitement about everything he was seeing in color for the first time. He would never have believed two days ago that he could feel such pain while being able to view the world as everyone else did. He had always believed that if he could just somehow, somehow see in color that nothing else could ever upset him again. He scoffed to himself as he realized this was just one more example of his naivety. Even with a million new and unknown colors flying by him, Sable's world had never felt so black.

Sarik attempted to talk to Sable twice, but the boy pointedly ignored him and he gave up. Marcus said nothing. When they reached Sarik's house, they were met with a surprise. The press, with all their various networks of communications, had heard that they were most likely headed back to Lord Eres' home, and they were waiting there for him. Sable blinked as a bulb flashed right by his window as the reported crowed the carriage and began snapping moment-captures through the thick glass. Marcus forcefully ripped down the shades, blocking out the sight of men and woman cramming themselves as close to the carriage as they could. The loud hum of their demanding voices was too much for Sable, and he buried his face in his hands as though to hide there. He did not see the grim look exchanged between Marcus and Sarik, but he did hear when Sarik knelt down before him.

"Sable," he said softly, "I have to go out there and handle this. Marcus needs to take you home as well."

Sable did not reply, did not stir from behind the barrier of his hands. He flinched when he felt Sarik's hand on his knee.

"Please, Sable. I don't want to part like this. I truly am sorry. I'll say it again; I did not mean to hurt you. Let me see your face. Please, one last time, before you leave?"

For a long unbroken moment, Sable remained still. Then he slowly and stiffly dropped his hands. His face was a mess, the camera make-up blotched where he had smeared it with his tears. But his eyes were dry now, and utterly devoid of any emotion. He stared forward into Sarik's eyes blankly, looking right through him as though he were not there. Sarik swallowed painfully, and reached out as though to stroke Sable's face. Sable turned his head sharply to avoid the touch, and Sarik did not try again.

"Goodbye, Sable. I know you're angry right now, but one day I hope you'll understand. I hope your future is blessed."

Then he turned, opened the carriage door to the wail of people, and was gone.

))((

For the first half-hour of the journey back to Nardak Sable said nothing, and only stared out the window. When they passed through the tunnel leading out to the plains that would take him home, that was when the tears came. Grief does not follow a timetable. It strikes at both convenient and inconvenient times. Sable did not stop to consider the intricate non-pattern of grief in his own life at the moment, instead he just let himself weep for the sister whose loss was too often unspoken. The subject of Ebony's death was like a giant weed that everyone in Sable's family ignored; the roots running deeply through every facet of their lives, choking them silently, but never being uprooted, never disturbed. He had never been able to talk to his parents about her, never share funny and happy stories about her short life, never mourning her together so as to help them heal as a family. No, instead his mother dealt with her grief with silence, his father through never-ending work and responsibilities, and Sable...Sable was just now realizing, two years after the fact, that he actually hadn't dealt with his grief at all.

Right here, in this carriage on the way back to the place where he had been born and raised with Ebony, he was weeping for her the hardest. On top of that, he now had numerous emotions that he could not even name, fighting for attention inside of him and he was too tired to deal with them. He was exhausted before he could even begin sorting through it all in his young mind.

Marcus let him cry for a while, but when his whimpers became sobs, he crossed the space of the carriage to sit beside him. He handed him a handkerchief and while Sable gratefully used it, put a strong arm around his shoulders and simply held him there like that in a half-embrace. Sable wept for a few more moments before he tired out, his erratic breathing leveling out and his eyes too sore to produce more tears.

"I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Sable." Marcus said softly, when all was quiet once more.

"I know." Sable said weakly, "I just...it's all such a mess...I can't even think, I just...I can't handle it..."

"I have something that might help." Marcus said, and took his arm from around Sable to reach into his big coat. He drew out a hand-screen like the one he had given Sable that first day and told him to chose where he wanted to go in Nueton. This one had a single red ribbon tied around it, and a tag with writing on it. Sable squinted at the letters for a few seconds before recognition lit his face.

"That's my name."

"Yes. I figured you'd kick and scream if I bought you a new one, so I'm giving you this one instead; it's my old one. I had it lying around the house and decided you could use it more than I could. You can watch all those informative shows you like, and keep up with the news in Nueton, and...call me...anytime you need...anything."

Marcus cleared his throat as he said the last few words. It was almost as if he were trying to 'gruff up' the sentimental statement. Sable's heart softened, and he took the screen carefully into his hands.

"I have no idea how to use this..." He stated, stroking his fingers over the screen in wonder. Wordlessly, Marcus pulled out a tiny booklet of instructions and handed it to him as well.

"I can't read very well." Sable admitted.

"I know you read well enough to make sense of that." Marcus said firmly, returning to his own seat with one more awkward cough for good measure. "I'm sure you're going to be coming into money soon one way or another with your sudden publicity this morning, so I suggest you use some of it to get yourself decent tutoring; literacy is freedom, young man. Never forget that."

Sable sighed wearily. He wanted to stay angry at Marcus, but he simply could not. Plus he was too drained to feel anything but numb.

He spent the rest of the journey exploring his new gift; stumbling through the instruction booklet, asking Marcus for help with occasional words, and playing the little games the screen provided. While it was a great distraction (he loved the colors bursting from the screen), all the while his aching body and heart reminded him of the pain that nestled just beneath the surface. It was almost unreal, heading back home after the week he had spent in virtually another world, forming bonds that he now felt empty breaking. However, when Nardak appeared out the window, his heart sped up, and he wished for nothing more than to be there as soon as possible. When they pulled up outside his house Sable slung his bag over his shoulder and made to get out at once, but Marcus stopped him momentarily.

"I really did mean what I said; you can call me anytime, lad." Marcus said, his brown eyes warming Sable's cold heart. In a gesture that he felt was overdue, he leaned forward and gave the man a quick hug.

"Thank you, Marcus. For everything." He said softly. Marcus patted him on the back with a grunt. When they pulled apart, the man opened the door for him. Sable stepped out, being hit in the face with a cold gust of strong, winter Nardak wind.

"Oh, and Sable!" Marcus called from the carriage as Sable took a few steps toward his house. He turned to look back at the man. He felt as though Marcus were studying him, standing there in front of his tiny Village house with his single bag over his shoulder, and the vicious wind ripping through his black-and-red hair. The man shook his head as though trying to decide whether or not to speak before the words were forced out of him,

"Do not hold on to anger. You are something special to him."

Sable swallowed hard, and slowly, respectfully, bowed his head to Marcus in response. What more could he give? What assurance could he speak? He had no way of knowing when his anger and hurt would fade, and he had no intention of giving Marcus the impression that he did. The door to the carriage closed on Marcus's farewell wave, and Sable turned his back on it before it was gone.

He hurried through the wind to his front door, and opened it swiftly. As he closed it, he leaned back against its thin wood, and closed his eyes. For a moment he just breathed in the familiar scent of his home, before he heard footsteps. He opened his eyes to see his mother standing up from the table. His father was still seated there and the expression on his face was unlike anything Sable had seen. Was is guilt? Remorse? These were such foreign additions to his father's face he hardly recognized them.

He had no more time to consider this, as his mother closed the distance between them, her eyes scanning his hair in wonder. She reached out and combed her fingers through the new band of her son's hair, then her soft hand cupped his cheek, smoothing a thumb beneath one of his swollen eyes. It would not take a mother's eye to know he had been weeping.

"Blue." He said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek in turn. "Your eyes...they're blue."

Her face crumpled as she began to cry, and she pulled him to her almost roughly, holding him tight. He dropped his bag and hugged her back, wanting to cry again but having no energy and simply too happy being back home to let himself. Instead he looked over his mother's shoulder at his father. He now rose from the table as well, and made his way over to his wife and son.

"What about mine, son?" He asked in a hoarse voice, curling his lips inward for a second to hide their trembling, "My eyes, Sable, what color are they?"

Sable looked, and had to think for a moment before a wide smile spread his lips.

"Nice try, father, but your eyes are blue too."

His father's lips could not conceal the rest of his face, which crinkled and warped as the man broke down into tears as well. With a huge gasp of happiness, Sable's father wrapped his wiry arms around his son and held him tight along with his wife. Now, beyond all his weariness, Sable found he could muster up just a few more tears.

(TBC in case you're wondering lol)


	16. Chapter 16

Don't hate me, this is not a chapter yet. OK, here's where it gets fun (hopefully) for you guys; I need some help in determining where this story goes. I have a few concrete ideas that I KNOW are going to happen next, (Sable's future, with or without Sarik lol you'll have to wait to find that one out, and a few other sub-plots) but beyond that I'm having a bit of trouble with a solid plotline that fills out around the main story. Main question; should there be war of some kind? Is that something you would like to see? What with Sarik supplying the military with DragonSkin and all, there has to be a need, but why? That's really what I'm struggling with right now because I'm thinking this story screams for it, but I kind of suck at writing war stuff...I will literally take any suggestions in hand and think them over. I am never afraid to admit when I need some fresh ideas or a little boost, and I love getting suggestions from my readers. If there's something you'd really like to see happen, or you just plain want to knock a few ideas around no matter how vague, please, comment and let's get a discussion started. I will literally take any suggestions in hand and think them over. I may or may not use them, but this story is dear to me and I want to keep it going, but am having a bit of a brain freeze right now and need suggestions. I hope to hear from y'all soon! I also just wanted to let everyone know that I have finished my first illustration for this story, which you can find on my facebook (Colette Robins) you don't need to friend me to see it, just follow this link to get there, and check it out. Please comment and let me know what you think, as I truly use comments to improve as an author and an artist. https://www.facebook.com/colette.robins.98


	17. Chapter 17

"I do not understand why you are choosing to do this, Lerron. How many years have we worked together?"

In a long conference room lit by the glow of Nueton's nightlife, a tall and handsome man with hair the color of the deepest ocean blue was sitting at a polished table, head hung in defeat. Another man, with long, ruby-red hair, was seated there also, leaning across the table's surface with the urgency of what he was saying.

"I beg you, if not as your business partner, than as your friend and fellow dragon...please do not do this. Stay with the company; your color is one of the most sought-after, and I am loosing suppliers left and right! I do not know what I shall do if you abandon me as well."

There was a brief silence before the other spoke,

"I am sorry, Sarik...I must break my contract."

"Lerron-"

"I'll take my leave now."

Sarik watched as yet another of his top dragon skin suppliers walked out the door. He stared blankly into space for a moment before sitting back in his chair and rubbing his temples. He could not believe it. No explanation, no sound reasoning, just one more broken contract. This had been happening steadily in the past year, and as of today he had lost fifteen of his major suppliers. Dragons kept inexplicably breaking their contracts and refusing to give any more of their shed skin for the work Sarik's company, DragonSkin, did for their country of Adanne, and others as well. The military thankfully cared not what color their share of DragonSkin was, but the strength was of importance, and several of the dragons who had broken contract supplied for this need. While there was no threat of war currently, the entire reason the military existed was due to an invasion half a century earlier. A strong people from the eastern islands had sailed in large numbers and nearly taken Adanne over. It was only by the interference of the countries' dragons that they were beaten back, never to threaten them again. The eastern islanders had no land dragons in their island homes, but rather ones that dwelt in the waters of the surrounding oceans. This ensured that they could never win in another attempt against Adanne. A newly-formed Adanne military was another reason.

Sarik's dark inner musings were broken by the small creak of the door opening.

"I do hope that was not what I think it was." Marcus' low voice reflected the anxiety that Sarik felt within himself, and he huffed angrily, shoving himself up out of his seat.

"I'm afraid it was, Marcus. Lerron has broken contract...just like the others."

Marcus stood to one side of the door as Sarik stalked out of the room. He picked up pack to stroll beside his friend and business partner as they spoke.

"Tell me he at least gave a reason."

"None."

"Any clues at all?"

"Absolutely nothing, Marcus."

Marcus grunted as Sarik forcefully pushed open the door to the staircase. They could have taken the lift, but, it was obvious that Sarik had more than a small amount of steam to blow off. Marcus trailed the echoing stomping footsteps down the long staircase, knowing they had more than ten flights downward to go. He was a tall man, but he was having trouble keeping up with the even taller dragon.

"Sarik, we have to come up with a backup plan. We're barely meeting demand as it is, and income was cut in half when you decided to stop-."

"There is no back-up plan, Marcus!" Sarik interrupted, "Either we meet the demand or we have to shut down. There is nothing else for it."

"What about a new wave of recruiting?" Marcus suggested. "That worked last year."

"For a time," Sarik growled, "but with the rate that our other suppliers began to pull out the number of new ones did not matter; all they did was balance the scales so that we did not crash and burn long ago."

Marcus was beginning to become out of breath with the harsh pace his dragon friend was keeping.

"Sarik, you're my good friend, but I have to speak plainly and say that you're being unreasonable. At this rate...we need to think through other options."

Hearing the wheeze in Marcus' breath, Sarik mercifully stopped on the stairs, looking back up at Marcus, who clung slightly to the railing and breathed deeply.

"What do you suggest? That I shut down production entirely? I've already cut out one third, how much more can I afford to eliminate?"

Marcus sighed sadly, and just shook his head.

"It does not look good, Sarik. That's the only answer I have for you."

Sarik stared at his friends dark brown eyes for a moment longer before his shoulders sagged and he turned from him.

"Then leave me, my friend. I need to contemplate alone."

So saying, Sarik continued down the staircase at an even greater pace, knowing Marcus would not come after him.

Sarik sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked out onto the street. He felt the rush of people, the city all around pressing in on him. He felt suffocated, gasping for the freedom of the cold wind beneath his wings, carrying him higher above the world and away from the crushing burden of his problems. He loved this city, but it was not his home. He belonged high in the mountains, scorching the walls and floor of his cave, drinking from rain pools, scuffling with the younger members of his clan and teaching them how to hunt bear and deer...Sarik's train of thought derailed as he passed a screen and caught a sight of a familiar face.

This had happened countless times before; he would be walking down the street, in a shop, watching his own screen at home, or reading the daily news, and he would be stopped cold. He would feel his body warm, his heart flutter, and his eyes soften. The reaction was always the same, and right now was no different: Sable Knight was politely smiling at one of the many interviewers who had received that smile over the years. Sarik could not hear what those sweet lips were saying, as there was a window between the screen in the store and himself. He wanted with all that was in him to enter the store and hear that voice clearly, but he was aware of how obvious he would be. Even out here on the street passersby might just think he was observing the display.

One glimpse of that beloved face and Sarik felt like he could breathe again, as though a fresh gust of wind had struck him in the face. He breathed it in deeply, keeping his eyes on that face that he missed so much. It was much changed from the childish features he had known five years prior. His jaw was more angular, his hair longer, but his ice-grey eyes were the same as ever. From what Sarik gathered from the program, Sable was doing better than ever, launching a new fabric collection. Flashes of images were projected behind the young man's black-haired head. Lovely shades of greens, blues and grays. A caption above the image read 'mountain line'. Sable had been doing very well for himself since he returned home. His skill at dying cloth had far surpassed his father's. His use of patterns was what set him apart. His father turned out solid colors. The story of his Marking had earned him fame from the beginning, and the vivid graphics that he created were all the more special and unique because he had once been colorblind. The public was intrigued by him, and even his first solid color fabrics that looked no different than anyone else's sold immediately when he had just learned the trade at age fifteen.

What had recently given Sable an extra boost of publicity was his newfound ability to dye DragonSkin. It had touched Sarik somehow, as if he was connected to the young man through this one aspect. At the same time, it saddened him to know that he might soon have to cut off even Sable's small supply of the precious material. No, he thought firmly. If he had to he would continue to send his very own shed skin to the boy...man...for his work. No one before had tried to change or manipulate the natural color of DragonSkin, which had sparked not only a new wave of interest from the public but also controversy. Some thought that Sable was defacing the originality of the dragon from which the skin came. Others cared not as long as they could wear an accessory dyed by Sable Knight's company Ebony.

He pressed a hand lightly to the glass that separated him from Sable's image. He missed the boy dearly. Three days with him five years ago and he was completely besotted, his life had never been the same. It was as though his heart constantly ached with the absence of Sable's warm honest presence. IT had hurt for so long, only increasing at the occasional sight of his changing voice politely telling how his business was growing, how he had built his parents a new house, how he loved to paint and mix colors more than anything, about how he had hired a tutor in order to learn how to read and write fluidly. Every now and again that dear face would soften as he mentioned Sarik's own name, acknowledging the incredible gift he had given. It always caused the deep ache in Sarik's heart to become a sharp stab of pain and affection. For years he had been watching and listening, wondering how or if he should try to see him again. It had been too long. Now he knew what he needed to do.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Sable jumped slightly as he heard the chime of bells from the front door, alerting him that a customer had arrived. He sighed and laid down his brush, reaching or a cloth. His fingers were stained with paint, and he could not greet a customer like that. As he scrubbed at his hands he stood back and looked at the canvas he had been sitting before. Vivid red streaked across the canvas, highlighted by orange and yellow where he wanted the light to catch in the hair he was representing. He gave a final nod and pulled off his once-white apron, careful of the wet paint that still smeared the previous layers of spilt color as he laid it over his stool. He wished he did not have to leave his latest favorite masterpiece, but customers always came first. That was something he had quickly learned entering business.

He hurried from his studio, which used to be his father's, to the front of the store, what used to be the kitchen when this building was his family home. Now it was polished up a bit, but basically the same. Sable had refused to do much more than repaint it white and put a decorative inside plant here or there. He turned a corner, running fingers through his hair to be sure it did not look too unruly.

A slender customer stood waiting for him at the table he had set up in place of a counter, looking suspicious in a long white cloak with the hood hiding the face.

"How can I help you?" Sable asked brightly, unsure whether to add 'sir' or 'ma'am' to the end of the inquiry. The customer glanced back at the door briefly, then asked quietly,

"I hate to be a bother, but...do you think you could lock the door while we talk?"

"Excuse me?" Sable asked, feeling a flutter of unease at the request. He had dealt with frantic fans in the past, and did not want another scuffle.

"I just...I don't want to cause a scene if...anyone sees me." The soft male voice answered.

"I don't understand." Sable said.

The customer turned toward him and lifted his hood briefly. Sable's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in shock. He struggled to find his voice as excitement raced through him.

"Oh, my goodness! Of course, I'll lock the door, and put up the 'on break' sign as well! Give me a minute!" Sable scurried to the door to do just that, turning back at once to pull out a chair for his customer. The stranger took the seat thankfully, and lowered his hood to shake his head a bit. His shock of white hair was only highlighted by the added white of the fur collar dusting his neck. His young, handsome face smiled almost shyly at Sable as he took a seat opposite him.

"I'm sorry for being so mysterious." He apologized.

"Oh no, I completely understand your reasoning." Sable managed to respond, all the while gazing unbelieving at the lovely violet eyes glittering at him.

"I thought you would, considering your own fame."

Sable nodded and swallowed nervously.

"So...um...what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I'm here to pick up an order."

Sable's brows drew together in confusion.

"I don't remember receiving an order from-"

"It's under a faux name of course." The white-haired boy said with a sly smile. Sable felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that at once. He went to the old kitchen counter and opened a cupboard, pulling a thick order book from one of the shelves.

"What name did you place the order under?" He asked, easing the heavy book onto the table.

"Mark Williams."

Sable laughed as he opened the book.

"Such a basic name! I should have realized. I don't know how I could have, but I still should have."

"I agree, but I couldn't very well let the media catch wind that Jem Winter was placing an order with Sable Knight. I can't imagine how they would react to knowing two celebrities were in such close proximity."

Sable chuckled as he continued to look up the order. His hands shook slightly. He had never thought to be in the same room as one of the people he admired so deeply. Jem was even more beautiful in person, that white hair looking so silky that Sable's fingers itched to touch it. His unique violet eyes so enchanting with their odd beauty that it was almost hard to look at them, and yet they demanded attention. Thankfully, the young man had a few years on Sable and emitted an air of humility that kept him from appearing arrogant.

"I knew that you were going to be playing the Winter Festival here in a few days," Sable said, "but I never would have guessed that you would be here so early, let alone coming to my shop."

"Truly?" Jem asked, leaning his elbows casually on the table. "Your craft is so sought after by laymen and celebrities alike, aren't you used to it by now?"

Sable looked up from the book and shook his head.

"I love what I do, but I will still never stop being surprised and dazzled by meeting people like you. Especially you."

"Oh?" Jem asked, leaning forward a bit more, his violet eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You enjoy my own work?"

Sable grinned widely and nodded.

"When I first found out who you were, five years ago, I also was given my first media screen, and I began looking up your music. I can't believe how many voices you can sing! The personas you create are so varied it just...it's unbelievable."

"It is remarkable." Jem said, with complete honesty and no trace of arrogance. "I still don't understand how I can do it."

There was a brief, slightly awkward pause before Sable cleared his throat and looked down at the book again.

"I found your order-wait...you...you were the one who ordered that glove?"

Sable looked up, incredulous. Jem nodded, lifting up his left hand and pulling off the thick winter glove. Yet another thin leather glove hugged his slender hand, cutting off at the knuckles so his slender white fingers splayed freely.

"You can see how old this leather has become; it is the only glove I've ever worn, after all."

Sable's jaw dropped slightly.

"That's...that's the original glove?" Sable then shook his head and laughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I sound like such a flustered fan right now."

"Don't be sorry," Jem reassured him, "I know this glove is somewhat iconic even though that wasn't my intention. Especially after I came clean about why I wear it."

Sable found himself licking his lips slightly, filled with a desire to pull that glove off Jem's hand and see the mysterious golden brand that was supposedly etched into his skin. Even Jem himself had no idea where it had come from or who had put it there on his flesh.

"How have you avoided anyone seeing it all this time?" Sable blurted, unable to hold the question back. Jem slowly but defensively drew his hand back into the winter glove to hide it and smiled politely.

"I've just had to be very careful. But now that my old glove has loosened up so much I need a snugger fit. That's why I came to you."

Sable's face broke into a giant smile as he truly realized what that meant.

"I'll be right back, please wait here."

Sable's heart pounded as he entered his storage room (what used to be his parent's bedroom) and pulled a small box off the shelf that had the name Mark Williams written on a tag attached to the lid. The true significance of what this box contained made Sable's excitement soar. He had never thought that he would be in such a position. He carried the box back out to the front, where Jem was looking around him.

"I always wondered why you decided to operate such a lucrative business out of your old home rather than building a new studio." Jem said as Sable approached the table. "It has a rustic feel to it that I enjoy, but I'd still like to know."

Sable placed the box on the table and sat down, shrugging.

"I can give you the interview answer if you want." He joked, making Jem smile.

"How about your own answer?" Jem replied.

"Alright. It is not a very complicated answer, you see, but the large media companies always need something more complicated to run their stories. In reality, I just see no reason to move out. My main goal for starting this company is complete; I built my parents a new house. I saw no reason to demolish this one, as it is so close to my heart, and I need no more room to work than what this space provides. I polished it up so that it will be warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and I did add on to my father's old studio since I needed more space, but besides that it is basically the same home I've always known."

Jem cocked his head, leaning his chin on his hand.

"I think that's very sweet; it's important that you embrace your roots, celebrate them. I'm still searching for mine."

Sable gave a sympathetic smile, knowing as every Jem fan did, that the young man was still searching for the person who designed him in a lab somewhere in one of the large cities. What a background to have, but not know.

"At least you have a family of your own." Sable said kindly. "Even if they're not related to you."

Jem nodded, his face having softened. There was yet another pause, before Sable broke it with a small breath.

"Well, here is your order."

Sable removed the lid from the box, and gently lifted out a sleek DragonSkin glove. It was an intriguing article; jet black with thick and thin veins of silver running a lovely pattern over it.

"This skin came from a Stone Dweller dragon, that's the silvery color, and the black scale pattern is the work I did. It is also fingerless, as you requested. You may try it on if you wish."

Sable knew that the chance of actually getting a glance of the brand on Jem's hand was slim to nothing, but he still watched closely as Jem took the new glove. The white-haired man looked up at him expectantly.

"May I ask you to turn around, please?"

Complying, Sable turned and listened to the soft ruffle of fabric.

"Perfect fit." Jem's voice cued Sable to look, and he was stunned by how striking the black-and-silver glove looked against Jem's white skin.

"It looks wonderful on you." Sable said, as though he had never seen his own creation before. Jem smiled, obviously pleased as he flexed his fingers and turned his hand over and over to inspect every inch of the new glove. It stretched with his hand, but fit tightly, hiding what it was intended to.

"It's magnificent." Jem said happily, "did it come from your Marker?"

Silver eyes widened at the question, and Sable felt his breath catch slightly.

"Um...no...no I told you, it was a Stone Dweller..."

Jem's own eyes widened in realization and he quickly said,

"Oh, I didn't mean did it come from your Marker, I meant, you attained it by ordering it from his company, did you not?"

Sable relaxed, and sighed apologetically.

"Of course, yes. I...misunderstood"

"It's alright," Jem said, "I didn't mean to touch a nerve."

"You didn't!" Sable answered far too quickly, and Jem smiled.

"Can I ask you a personal question, all the celebrity aside?" Sable felt uneasy, but shakily nodded. "Do you ever miss him? Your Marker, Sarik Eres? I know you have seen him once or twice in the last five years since your Marking."

There was a pause as Sable tried to decide how much truth to reveal. In the many trips to Nueton he had made in the last five years, Sarik and he had only met twice, at large social events. They had only seen in each other in passing, never being able to get close enough to share words.

"I have not actually met him or spoken to him, but yes, I have seen him. And...yes...I miss him when I think about him."

Jem's expression smoothed into one of empathy.

"I couldn't help but hear your story, as you could not help hearing mine, and I didn't want to blindly believe what the media was saying. I won't ask you to reveal any more. I respect your privacy." Jem then reached into his coat pocket. "Here is your payment for the glove, plus a little extra, since I now know you're a fan."

Jem handed Sable a stack of paper money, and as Sable counted it out he came to a small metallic sheet with printing indented into it.

"This is...a Special Access Slip to your performance at the Winter Festival..." Sable said, unbelieving.

"I carry a few in my pocket just in case." Jem said, sliding his winter glove on over the new DragonSkin glove Sable had made for him. "I hope you come."

With that, Jem reached out his right hand and Sable shook it, both young men smiling at each other. Neither of them needed to say it, but they were strongly connected by the bond of fame, and they both felt they had found a friend.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

The Winter Festival in Nardak was ordinarily an event that brought everyone in the village together. Nardak was transformed from its ordinarily drab appearance to a whimsical maze of light and cheer. The streets were lit by frosted lamps that were strung from roof to roof, causing the buildings to glow. Evergreen and red ribbons decorated front doors, silver bells hung from doorknobs tinkled when the wind blew past them. The main square had been transformed into a giant ice rink, and was teaming with children and couples who slid about on makeshift skates. It always took special engineering to create the rink; groups of villagers set up foot-high barriers in every alleyway around the square, and then poured bucketfuls of water onto the stone for hours, working in shifts, until it froze in a thick sheet. Even more lanterns were hung about here, tinted green, gold, and red to bring a festive atmosphere. Garlands of pine twined around crude railings of wood that had been placed around the entire rink, red berries and golden bells woven through it.

The next street over was the main marketplace, the true heart of the village, where all their trade took place. It was an extremely wide street, lined with merchants' stalls from which they sold their wares. Some could not even afford the structures that made up a stall, and spread their merchandise out on wide rugs on the street. During The Winter Festival each stall was decorated with strings of special lights that were only brought out once a year to use, as their power source cost extra. They lit up the entire marketplace, and the food merchants brought out their hot chestnuts, cinnamon buns, sticky pecan bread, and various other hot foods that filled the air with warm and luscious scents. It was an especially lucrative time for Nardak as they saw great numbers of travelers passing through on their way to visit friends or family in the city or in neighboring villages. It was one of the peak times for the merchants, one of three in a year where they made the most money. Spring thaw and harvest were the other two, and each brought with it a different kind of joy.

This year, however, Nardak was especially blessed with the arrival of Jem Winter. His concert had brought so many people to the village that the one inn was completely booked, and other Jem fans would travel from wherever they were staying locally just to mill about in Market Street and perhaps catch a glimpse of where Jem was staying. Between those staying in the village itself and the visitors, the merchants were doing better this year than even the first year after Sable had returned from his Marking. That year had brought crowds as well, all wanting to see Sable's first stall of his own and buy what they could from it as well as just take his image-capture and possibly record a few 'inspiring words'.

Sable thought about that winter as he joined the crowds heading toward the outskirts of the village, where the concert was to be held. He was glad that at least tonight, the fans were so focused on going to see Jem that he passed mostly unnoticed among them. Of course, the unobtrusive black coat he wore might have had something to do with it; the hood shielded his face from those on either side of him as he headed toward a cue. They were all stuffed into an alley way, leading out of the village, as the main road led through the ice rink and could not be used. Sable had come out once before today with many onlookers at the workers building the stage Jem was to use. It had looked odd, seeing such a modern structure being put up out in the vast emptiness of their plains. Now, however, as Sable rounded to corner, he was startled by the high arch of bright red-and-silver lights that towered above the glistening black stage, screens projecting images of the crowd as they hustled to find a place to stand. The magnitude of the entire structure astounded Sable, as well as just how lovely it looked. In the dead of night, lit up like that, it was incredible.

He had to show the metal slip Jem had given him to two broad-chested guards near the very front of the crowd, right where Jem said to go. They let him pass, and he found himself sitting rather than standing, with a handful of people who also clutched the silver bands in their hands. The noise of the crowd would have been deafening had they not been in such an utterly open area. They were blessed to have a still night so far, the wind only moderately floating along. Sable grinned to himself, though, knowing that the weather out here did as it pleased when it pleased and could change at any moment. He certainly hoped that did not happen during Jem's concert, though. He liked the young man, and would not want anything to stop his performance. The wait for the concert to start felt like an eternity, especially as Sable was surrounded by strangers. The girl sitting to the left of him was extremely hyper, almost bouncing in her seat and chattering to him about how much she adored Jem and had been to every single one of his concerts since he was a little child performer. By her expensive scarlet coat and mink gloves, Sable guessed she had the money to do so. On his right was a man who could not have been more opposite of the girl. He sat rigid in his chair, an almost solemn look on his face as he simply stared up at the stage. Sable had the impression that he was almost willing something to happen. He felt no desire to strike up a conversation with either of these characters, and almost wished he could just go back home. He had some patterns that he wanted to work on for spring...

Thankfully the concert started soon after. The roar of the crowd when Jem was introduced was unlike anything Jem had experienced before, and the frantic woman on his left did not help as she screamed and waved her arms. Jem appeared on the stage and Sable had a hard time looking at him for a moment; he wore a long white tunic of glittering white, casting twinkles of reflections from the row of stage lights. His pants were glittering as well, black as they were, as was the red wrap he wore around his waist. However, when Sable's eyes had adjusted, it was not the flashy clothes they were drawn to, but the sleek leather glove on Jem's pale left hand. His heart skipped a beat, and at that moment he felt more special than he had in all the years he had spent perfecting his craft.

No time was wasted as the music flared from the orchestra on stage. The crown settled a fraction as Jem began to sing. It was his younger voice, the one that had put his name on everyone's lips when they had first heard it years ago. Far too high to be his natural voice now, he sang with the range and purity of a talented child, a sweet song tinged with darkness. Sable felt transported to some mystical place, with a bittersweet storyline.

I am lost in the flames of tomorrow, seeking out a saving hand

Crawling upward from yesterday's sorrow searching for my name

The ink-black sky pours out stars on an empty land

While music calls me forward to find my way to you

Sable recognized this song as one he had always loved; it recounted in a flowery, poetic way, Jem's story from the very beginning. From the moment he awoke to the world in a burning pit, to the time he met his adopted father who had saved him. The crowd stayed reverently silent during this powerful performance, until the music faded, and they were free to cry out their adoration.

"Good evening, Nardak!" Jem called, his voice projected by the thin black device protruding from around his ear. The crowd responded with thunderous yells and cheers.

"Hope you all stay warm out there since you don't have a heated stage like I do!" He jested, earning a ripple of laughter. "Before I move on to my next song, I just want to give a shout-out to a friend of mine who's in the audience tonight."

With these words Jem lifted his left hand for all to see, and on the large screens the image narrowed to focus in on his black-and-gold glove.

"He made me this glove, the one that I hope to wear for years to come. Thank you, Sable Knight!"

The crowd roared and Sable's jaw dropped when the image on the screen blurred for a moment before refocusing to show his own face, staring stupidly out at the enormous crowd. He quickly put on his perfected public smile, and pushed back his hood, causing an even louder reaction from the crowd, and waved a bit. As he received this free and unexpected burst of publicity, the music growled to life on stage, this time a loud and infectious beat that made the listener want to sway their hips and rock their heads back and forth. Sable quite liked the change, as he enjoyed the variety of music Jem offered.

And a variety did follow, from loud music where Jem's voice was low and gravelly, to lighter songs where he was sweet as a bird. And everything in between. There was literally a song for anyone, the styles were so varied. By the time Sable announced his final song, and then came back for a long three-song encore, Sable had to wonder how he had any voice left at all. The wind had indeed begun to pick up right before the encore, and now was whistling quite angrily across the wide open plain, as thought to remind everyone that they did not belong, and the stage was interfering with its journey across the land. Sable wanted to go straight home, but he also wanted to take full advantage of the metal pass that Jem had given him, and stay behind to speak with him in person once more.

After clearing a few checkpoints with the guards, Sable was led to a transporter that looked more like a small house, hidden behind the giant stage. The inside was indeed furnished like a home, with carpets and fine chairs, and even lights. Sable felt slightly awkward when the door was opened for him and he entered, seeing Jem reclining slightly on a sofa, drinking a glass of some golden liquid. His lavender eyes lit up when they fell on Sable, however, and he tossed the rest of his drink down in a gulp so he could get to his feet.

"I'm so glad you came." He said, coming forward and shaking Sable's hand warmly.

"It was wonderful." Sable said, "you were absolutely magnificent. I...I can't believe I'm talking with you."

Jem laughed, the sound slightly rough for all the use of his vocals that night.

"As if we didn't talk just yesterday!"

"I guess I was caught off guard." Sable admitted, and pointed to the empty glass. "What's that?"

"Oh, just a special ginger, honey, and lemon mixture to help soothe the throat after such a long performance." Jem answered, turning and placing the glass on a small nearby table.

"Sounds smart." Sable said, trying to think of something better to say to this amazing person before him. Jem seemed to sense his nervousness, and sat down again, smiling at him.

"I am certainly glad that you're one of my laid-back fans...I just had a crazy woman in here a moment ago. The guards had to take her out before she attacked me."

Sable felt his mouth twitch.

"Oh, yes, she was sitting next to me, and also waited in line before me to see you. I thought she would shake her skin off she was so excited."

Jem poured more of his soothing drink out of a tall pitcher Sable had not noticed before, and took a long swig before swallowing and saying,

"Well, I've seen it all, as I trust you have as well."

Sable bit his lip in embarrassment as he said,

"I did have a woman propose to me once, after she saw my 'blue' collection."

Jem's mouth widened into such a huge smile that Jem wondered his teeth didn't pop out.

"I want to laugh at that so badly," Jem said, his voice strained, "but my throat is so raw."

"Don't trouble yourself about it." Sable said. "In fact, I can't stay much longer, I need to get home. There's a task my parents need me to do for them tonight."

"Say no more." Jem said, raising his half-empty glass in a saluting gesture. "But before you go, I wanted...to tell you something, as I have no idea if or when I'll see you again."

The young man rose and came toward Sable once more. His white shirt was so brilliant that Sable felt the illusion that an angle was approaching him. When Jem was quite close he reached out to place one hand on Sable's shoulder, his lavender eyes boring into Sable's silver ones.

"You and I are very similar, Sable. The one difference between us is that I have no idea who the person is that loves me most in this world. While I have no doubt that you do."

Sable drew in a sharp breath at the directness of the statement, but before he could say anything in response, a familiar voice spoke from Jem's lips,

"Don't let love pass you by when you know where to find it."

Sable's eyes widened in shock; that was Sarik's voice. Sarik's voice coming from Jem's mouth. He was so startled that he pulled back suddenly, breaths coming faster.

"Don't be frightened." Jem said, in his own voice, "I didn't mean to startled you. I met your Sarik Eres a while back, and heard his voice enough to imitate it. I just thought you might need to hear it."

Not really knowing what to make of this, but completely thrown by what he had just witnessed, Sable merely nodded, swallowing.

"I only wish for your happiness, Sable." Jem said softly. "You remind me so much of myself...but while I search in vain for my companion, you know exactly who and where yours is. I couldn't meet you without urging you to remember that."

"Thank you." Sable said softly. "I...I appreciate that."

Jem smiled gently, as if knowing that Sable was not in the least bit thankful to him at all, and might even be a bit resentful for his impertinence.

"Happy Winter, Sable Knight." He said, raising his glass to him once more.

"Happy Winter, Jem Winter."

(Sorry it took so long, guys, but I'm back on it, and there will be more to come soon, I hope!)


	20. Chapter 20

Sarik tugged his long cloak close to his body as he descended the steps from the navigation pod of his carriage. It had been far too long, he realized, since he had driven it himself. A fierce wall of wind threatened to knock him over as well as freeze him on the spot. He instantly tied the laces of his tall, fur-lined hood tight at his throat, fumbling a bit through his thick leather gloves. He did not need the keenness of his dragon-eyes to see the curtains of snow being blown about by the angry, groaning wind. It had been fairly clear when he had started out, but the weather had taken a drastic turn for the worst by the time he arrived. The only light for miles was the inviting glow of the small village ahead of him, the rest of the land was enveloped in complete darkness. Out of that darkness the wind could be heard gathering strength and dancing over the open plains as though to claim it as its own.

"It figures."

Sarik mumbled, belatedly deciding on pulling his glass goggles down to protect his eyes. Dragon or no, with the wind being as harsh as it was he didn't want to suffer the stinging lashes of the wind-tossed snow. He locked down his carriage then trudged the few dozen feet that led away from the Vehicle Rest to the entrance of the village. While the howling of the wind was constant, the walls of the buildings sheltered Sarik as he walked. Only one street in and he gratefully pulled his goggles off and let them drape around the collar of his hood. He had never cared for them, but in the thick of winter, at times they became necessary. He felt his heart warm nostalgically as he walked through the empty streets of this small village, surrounded by its lovely glowing lights and the pure charm of its winter decor. From the sounds of laughter and singing that poured out of every lit window, there were many people making merry, but few of them were out in the streets. It was strange, to wander so late at night in abandoned streets when there were obviously so many people around him. Especially when it was still early on in the evening. Then again, it was bitterly cold. Yet they celebrated on, following the traditions of the Winter Festival. The presence of a singing idol might have contributed to the levity as well, Sarik mused to himself. He had not known that Jem had been here to sing a concert the night until he was on his way and heard it on the speaker in his carriage. Apparently the silver-haired beauty had departed sometime late this afternoon with his fans right behind him, which explained the traffic activity on the normally lonely road. Sarik's carriage was the only one heading toward the village and not away from it. From the time he left the main tunnel out of Nueton flashes of other vehicles glinted off his windows; a never-ending stream of passengers traveling home after the large event. Sarik felt like an idiot for not knowing that such a monumental event was taking place in Sable's hometown during their Winter Festival. He suspected that a local event such as that one was cause for merriment in a village whose livelihood was based on trade.

Sarik studied the homes that he was passing in search of only one, and noticed just how crude they really were beneath their dressings of greenery, lights, and baubles. This was where Sable's roots were, this tiny, poor place...little wonder it had produced such an honest and humble soul. The dragon had seen moving-image-captures of Sable's village and even his family home before, and even that had shocked him, softening his heart at how little his dear one truly had, but seeing it in person was so much more harrowing.

This was a moment of insanity and Sarik knew it all too well. To suddenly show up at the doorstep of one of his Wards...no...his Special Ward...of over five years ago was ludicrous, absolutely mad, and he had no idea how he would be received. Firstly, however, he had to find the house. The village itself was so small that Sarik had not even consulted his screen to look up the address, but decided that he would walk the length and breadth if he had to, giving himself time to think on what he would say when Sable opened the door to him. He still did not know, even after the long ride out and ten minutes walking the streets he knew not how he was so explain his presence here. Was he to say 'I missed you, care to let me in?' surely not...but then, what else was left to say if not the truth? He could not lie; Sable had never kept anything from him even in their short time together. But he could not just pour out the thoughts pooling in his heart and mind...that would be too sudden, too overwhelming. It was a difficult dilemma, but one that Sarik had brought on himself before knowing a solution.

As he looked this way and that long the narrow way, a large sign above a house at the end of the street caught his attention: Knight textile dyers. Just beneath this sign there hung a smaller one, which somehow looked newer and in better condition: Home of Sable Knight's Ebony. Sarik had just run out of time. The dragon swallowed deeply, letting out a long warm breath that billowed in a white cloud from his mouth. He walked slowly up to the door, and bit his lip as he heard the happy commotion coming from within. The sounds of feet running and multiple peoples laughter was only slightly muffled by the whitewashed walls of the place. It sounded like children, and Sarik had no idea what might be going on inside. . . or whose children they might be. . .It struck him how little he actually knew about Sable's current life. He had wanted to actually look up his information, listen to interviews, watch programs that had been run about him, but something had held him back. Possibly it was fear, or denial that he actually cared enough, but either way, Sarik had not kept up to date with anything that the boy had been doing beyond generally knowing of his success.

The dragon sighed, drew himself up to full height to disguise his nervousness, and knocked on the door. No break came from the noise within. The running about continued as though he had made no sound at all. Sarik gathered every ounce of his courage and knocked one more time, harder, and this time the sound died down a little.

"I want to get the door!" A young voice cried from within, and then an older, more familiar voice answered laughingly,

"Don't open it too wide, now. We don't want the snow flooding in."

Sarik gulped as he heard the doorknob scrape open, and then the door was pulled just far enough to let a small head poke out. Sarik was taken aback at first; it was a little boy with jet black curls and bright, blue eyes. His pale face was alight with happiness, and looked so similar to-

"AHHH!" The little boy slammed the door shut on him, and Sarik could hear him screaming in terror, "It's not mum! It's a giant!"

"GIANT?!" A higher-pitched voice shrieked, sounding equally young. Sarik grinned to himself, but the amused look faded as he heard the older voice,

"Azure, you know there are not such beings as giants! Don't go telling tales to frighten your sister! And it's rude to call people names, let alone slam the door in their face. Shame on you!"

The voice came closer as it spoke, and the doorknob creaked again as it turned.

"No! Don't let him in! He's a giant!" Came the frightened young voice, sounding as though it were in retreat.

"Not one more word out of you, mister."

Sarik's heart began pounding like an enormous hammer in his chest as the door was opened up, and light flooded out. He squinted against it until the image became clear. He almost could not comprehend what he was seeing; Sable, tall as his shoulder, a brilliant shade of Sarik's red hair adorning half his head, and holding another small dark-haired child on his hip. It was such an unexpected sight that Sarik actually forced himself not to blink or rub his eyes to ensure the bright light was not making him see things. But there they remained, Sable, and a barely-toddling infant who looked very much like him, as had the boy. Sable himself was smiling politely as he answered the door...until he took a good look at Sarik's face. Then his lovely silver eyes widened in shock, his full lips parted on a gasp, and he actually took a half-step back. They were frozen like that, just staring at each other while the child sucked its thumb and watched them, intrigued.

"Don't let the giant in!" Came the boy's voice from within, sounding terrified. This time, Sable did not respond. He just stood there, looking up into Sarik's eyes as though the boy had not spoken. Sarik felt that one of them had to say something, and he was by far more prepared for this than Sable, despite feeling that he was not. Therefore he cleared his throat and spoke,

"Good evening, Sable."

The child Sable held fussed slightly at the unknown sound of Sarik's voice, and this seemed to snap Sable back to life. He automatically began to bounce the baby boy on his hip, eyes never leaving Sarik's.

"What are you doing here?" Sable blurted bewilderedly.

Sarik felt those sweet, unbelieving words melt away part of the cold fear freezing his heart. He could not help the smile that rose so quickly to his face. After all these years, Sable retained his honesty. At the sight of Sarik's smile, Sable seemed to realize how rude he had sounded, and quickly dropped his gaze from Sarik's, shaking his head as though to ridicule himself.

"I mean, um, what...how..?"

"I apologize for this sudden visit." Sarik said softly, feeling that he needed to keep from startling the young man. Yes, young man...he was no longer a boy...but it was hard not to see him like that as he seemed to shrink before him. "May I...will you allow me to come inside?"

Sable swallowed visibly, but then the flicker of a warm smile lit his handsome face, and he nodded.

"Of course! Please do." He stepped aside, and Sarik entered, closing the door against the roaring night.

"I, um...I'm sorry, the place is a bit of a mess right now, what with the little ones." Sable said apologetically. While still confused as to who the 'little ones' were, Sarik understood Sable's rush to small talk in order to calm his nerves, and he followed along. Anything to set his Sable at ease around him again, were that possible. There would be time for questions later.

"Think nothing of it." Sarik said, throwing back his large hood and glancing around to study the place. "I had heard that you had converted your childhood home into your place of business. It looks quite inviting."

Sable was clearly still in shock at Sarik's arrival, and chuckled in a painfully nervous manner,

"Well, it is nothing compared to the shops in Nueton..."

Sarik's heart softened for the Sable's discomfort.

"Yet from what I hear you managed to put them out of business with your craft."

"That's what they tell me." Sable said shakily. "I've only been back to Nueton once or twice. . . what. . . what are you doing here?"

Sarik felt so much rushing through him; fear of what to say and how it would be taken, joy at seeing Sable's dear face again, and wonder at how age had made him even more beautiful. He took a small breath, dropping any farce that all was perfectly normal.

"I...I cannot answer that, I'm afraid. I just...wanted to see you. I can't explain it any better than that."

Sable looked uncertain as to what to do with this unsatisfactory answer, and simply stared at him as though he still could not believe Sarik was standing before him. Finally, Sable felt as though he needed to respond somehow, to give Sarik an indication of whether or not he was alright with this sudden appearance. Sable wasn't even sure himself how he felt.

"Alright, that is fair, I suppose."

"Forgive the mysteriousness of it all," Sarik said, a faint air of pleading in his voice, "I did not mean to startle you. Believe me, this was sudden to me as well. I cannot truly explain what came over me..."

Sable's eyes, which had been narrowed with caution, softened gratefully, as though he had accepted this strange statement.

"I see...uh...can I take your coat?"

The tall man nodded, and began the process of unbuckling the straps that fasted the coat closed in the front, before slipping it off. He didn't really want to hand it to Sable while his hands were full with the baby boy, but the young man's hand was outstretched, his other arm holding the child firm. Sarik saw that Sable was more than capable of managing as he shook the coat slightly and then carried it to a set of hooks along the wall behind the door to hang it up. The child fussed again, and Sable began oddly swaying from side to side to placate the little one as he moved back to Sarik. The action made him look almost like a mother...or a...

"So..." Sarik cleared his throat, unable to hold back the question that had been nagging at him any longer, "is this one yours?"

Sable looked utterly confused at the question, until Sarik gestured toward the baby boy. Then his face flooded with amusement and he smiled, making him look so very, very lovely.

"Oh, god, no!" He laughed, and Sarik felt as though the previous tension had been shattered, even if the shards still left a mess. "This is my youngest brother, Ash. I'm watching him and the twins while our parents finish repairing our stall in the market; the crowds were such that a support leg was actually broken."

"Twins?" Sarik asked, looking about for the source of the running feet he had heard before, and finding nothing. Sable lifted his chin up as a proud look crossed his face.

"My mother became pregnant just before you and I..." The pride was overcome with a blush, "...met."

There was a very short pause before Sable picked right up where he had been talking.

"When I came home, they told me the news, and eight months later my brother and sister, Azure and Auburn, were born. Little Ash here didn't come along until two years ago; he was a surprise, but one we all treasure."

Sarik smiled as Sable nuzzled the baby, and Ash responded by cooing slightly and fingering Sable's ear. His heart soared at this news, and yet he also felt a stab of both guilt and pain. He wished he had known. He felt as though he had missed out on such monuments in Sable's life, even if he had no obligation to share them. He was sure that thousands upon thousands of Sable's fans, and anyone who read a screen had heard about the birth of Sable's siblings, but...he had not...

"I am happy for you and your parents, Sable. I truly am." Sarik said softly. Sable looked up and met his eyes.

"Thank you...Sarik."

A tender look was passed between them, after hearing their names spoken by the other for the first time in five long years. Sable's face relaxed, his smile coming easily.

"Well, um...do you have anywhere to stay tonight?"

"I can sleep in my carriage...if...if that would be better."

Sable looked horrified.

"Sleep in your carriage?! What kind of backslidden country hicks do you think we are?! You can stay with me here. Don't worry about the children; mum and dad will be picking them up any minute now. I wasn't supposed to have them this long, but it's nothing I'm not used to."

The dragon cocked his head, looking confused.

"You no longer live with your parents?"

"Um...no, I-I haven't lived with them for almost three years now. I built them a house of their own."

"I knew of that," Sarik said, feeling a pathetic surge of pride in that small face, "but I thought you lived with them there."

"I did for a few weeks." Sable explained, swaying more vigorously as Ash began to fuss more and more. "But then I decided to move back in here and take it over as my own personal workspace and home. Did you know, I built my dad his own brand new studio right behind their house? Even though he's near retiring now with the success of Ebony, he enjoys his trade and helps me quite a bit. Without him I'd have to hire workers."

Sarik opened his mouth to speak, but Sable's voice cut him off at once, directed behind him.

"Come on out, it's rude to hide and whisper when there's a guest in the house."

As he turned, Sarik caught sight of the same boy who had opened the door to him earlier, peeking out from behind a doorway that led into a hall. On the other side, peeking out from behind the other wall, was a startlingly red crop of curls.

"Come here and say good evening to our visitor."

Sable said, gently, but with an air that brooked no nonsense. Sarik could hardly believe these two were twins; Black hair and blue eyes on one, and deep red with golden-brown eyes on the other. They looked to be about five, as Sarik estimated they would be, and also very nervous.

"This is Azure and Auburn." Sable said, walking nearer to his younger siblings to encourage them. "Children, this is Mr. Eres. He's a. . . friend. Say hello."

The five-year-old twins mumbled unintelligible 'hello's and then stood there looking scared.

"Well, hello to the two of you as well." Sarik said, and he knelt down to be more on their level. "I am so pleased to meet Sable's little brother and sister."

"I'm not as little as she is." The boy, Azure, mumbled.

"We're the same size!" The girl, Auburn shot back at him.

"Boys are always taller than girls." Azure said, his small childish voice gaining volume with his determination. "Everyone knows that."

"That's not true!"

"Kids!" Sable said with a slight groan. "I tell you over and over that it doesn't matter, now, does it?"

"That's right!" Auburn declared, her nervous fear of the newcomer forgotten as she now had something to explain to him, and looking him right in the face as she said, "Sable says that some girls are taller than boys, and some boys are taller than girls."

"Your big brother is right." Sarik said, making Auburn's face light up, and Azure look slightly cross. "I once met a woman who towered over me. Tallest woman I've ever seen."

Auburn gave a small gasp.

"But you're so big!"

"I am tall, it is true, but she was taller. It just depends on where you are in the world."

"I'm glad I live here." Azure grumbled. "Boys are taller than girls here."

"Alright, enough on that topic, you two!" Sable demanded. "Your little brother is getting very sleepy and needs you to get along. Now why don't you go play in my room until mum and dad get here, alright?"

The little children continued to argue quietly as they turned and walked past Sable, who reached out to pat each one on the head on their way to the hallway. He then looked at Sarik, amused.

"I promise you they really do love each other, they just argue a lot."

"That is the case with many siblings." Sarik said, rising back up from the floor.

Ash gave a great wail suddenly, and Sable rolled his eyes.

"This one is so tired," he explained, "it's way past his bedtime."

He lifted the baby boy up into his hands and bounced him through the air, making garbling and cooing sounds to encourage him to calm down. Ash's cries eased away, but a frown remained on his chubby little face as Sable put him back on his hip.

"Why don't we walk around? It will help calm him down. Would you like...to see the studio?"

Sarik's eyes brightened at the suggestion, and he nodded. Sable smiled back at him, and turned to lead him out of the kitchen and down a narrow hallway.

"Have you happened to see it on the network before?" Sable asked.

"I'm afraid not. I've been preoccupied with DragonSkin lately."

"I figured as much, but I thought I'd ask. They came here with an entire crew when I announced I was taking it over as my own and renovating it. From what I heard it was a pretty large story."

Another stab of guilt shot through Sarik's heart at those words, once again feeling as though he had all but abandoned Sable by not even following his story.

"Think of it this way," he said, trying to convince himself as well as Sable, "at least it will be a surprise to me."

"Good point. Well, here it is."

They walked through a large doorway and into a large room. Sarik was stunned by the sudden brightness and variety of color when they stepped in; every inch of the space was hung with fabric that had been dyed and designed, drying or just resting over multiple racks that towered to the ceiling. A few solids were hanging here and there but most were vivid, startling patterns of every color combination and design. It was like walking into a gallery for textile, which also doubled as the artist's workplace. The room was really more of a wide, long hall, and at the back were large stone tubs. By the sight of fabric floating in them, Sarik could tell even from this distance that they were dying tubs where the textile was soaked in the coloring liquid. He did not know much about the process, but he could tell that much. There were long pieces of white fabric hanging on tall racks, ready to be turned into something brilliant on one of the many wide tables that lined the walls. Innumerable jars and bottles filled with every shade and variation of dyes and inks were stacked four deep on several shelves here or there, and the tables all contained brushes and instruments that Sarik could not name. The entire place smelled odd to his keen nose, but he noticed that Sable seemed to breathe it in happily as they wandered about.

"Sable..." Sarik said, turning round and round to try and take in all the intense beauty written in dye around him. "They're all so...so very lovely...you are incredibly talented."

"Well, I...I have you to thank for that, do I not?"

Sable quiet voice made Sarik's heart bleed, and he turned to look at the young man, still bouncing a weary infant. His cheeks were flushed slightly, but Sarik thought he saw something else there, something that was not all happiness...perhaps it was...shame?

As he opened his mouth to respond, a voice boomed from the front of the house.

"Alright, Sable, where are you hiding my other children?!"

A chuckle escaped the young man.

"Well, dad's here for the kids." Suddenly his face dropped into shock, looking absolutely afraid.

"Dad's here for the kids." He repeated in a panicked tone. "Oh god, um, just...Sarik, just..."

"Relax, Sable." Sarik answered. "I'm a businessman, I can handle this."

"You'd better, because I don't know how to." Sable muttered as he led them back into the hallway that lead to the kitchen. They nearly collided with the twins as they raced out of a door on one side of the hallway and began giggling and shouting. As they rounded the corner they came upon the heart-warming sight of two young children clinging lovingly to their father's legs as he ruffled their hair. He looked more like a bear with his large, puffy coat with furry cuffs and hood.

"Did you kids behave yourself for your big brother?" The man was asking, merriment lacing his voice.

"To an extent." Sable said, forcing a laugh. "But they were rude to um...to my company."

At that statement the man looked up, and for a moment he looked befuddled. He stared Sarik up and down politely as one does with strangers, before his eyes widened and a distinct glint of recognition hardened his blue eyes. Though he was small man, shorter now than his own eldest son, he managed to draw himself up and hold his own even when confronted with Sarik's height.

"Company indeed." He said, in an odd tone that sounded like he was trying to decide whether to be angry or not. "Sir Eres."

He extended his wiry, working-man hand to Sarik, who gladly took it and endured the death-grip he had expected.

"Sir Knight. It is good to meet you."

"Please," the man said, his eyes narrowing, "call me Bronze."

Sable cleared his throat almost at once at the sudden tenseness in the room.

"Father, Ash desperately needs to go home and be put to bed. He's been fussing for the last hour."

Bronze Knight tore his gaze from Sarik's eyes and looked to his youngest child.

"He probably just wants his da-da, come here, little one." He reached out and took little Ash from Sable and cradled him tenderly.

"I'll get his coat. Kids, get your coats down."

Sarik watched with a grin as Sable and his father Bronze worked three wiggly children into their thick coats. By the time they were done it looked like they had three little cubs, with their leather paws and goggled eyes, two of them tumbling over each other to take advantage of their extra padding.

"Settle down, children!" Bronze bellowed briefly. "It's time to wind down, not get hyped up. We're going home."

There was a strange stalemate as it was obvious they were all ready to go, but Bronze hesitated to leave.

"So, Lord Eres, will you be staying with us, or-"

"I'm letting him stay here with me, father." Sable said quickly. "I don't want to bother you and mum on such short notice. I have enough room, don't mind it."

Bronze looked briefly from Sable to Sarik, and looked like he was about to protest, when Ash began to wail once more. Then his shoulders shrugged beneath the thick layers he wore, and he sighed slightly.

"Alright, son. . . if you want, you can take tomorrow off from the stall to show Lord Eres around."

"Thank you father."

Sable held his father's eyes for a second longer, before Ash's crying became the priority once more and the man turned to lead his children out the door and into the cold night. Sable closed the door after them, locking it for good measure. Then he turned, leaned back against it, and gave a shuddering laugh.

"That was beyond awkward."

"Inevitable, don't you agree?"

"Was it?"

"If we were ever going to meet again, at some point I would have to meet one or both of your parents."

Sable let out an exhausted sigh and clapped his hand to his forehead.

"Oh dear...um, well, listen, it is well past dinnertime but the kids and I had a late lunch so we didn't eat after. Would you like me to whip something up? I have a lovely stew that I can heat on the stove. I also have a loaf of my mum's bread, and it's to die for."

"That sounds wonderful, Sable, thank you."

"Please, go ahead and sit down. The trip out here must have been hell with the weather the way it is."

Taking Sable up on his offer, Sarik pulled out a chair at the shiny, well-used table. It felt extremely homey, more so than anything Sarik had in his home in Nueton. All of his furnishings were new and well-maintained. This table was highly polished with years upon years of use, littered with nicks and dents from utensils. Sable had little to say as he prepared the meal, pouring the contents of a storage bowl into a cooking pot on the stove and warming a decadently fluffy-looking half loaf of bread in the heater unit above the sink.

The dragon took this time to study Sable in detail, after all this time apart. He had truly changed from the small and timid child he had once been. His shoulders were more broad, his height had increased by several feet, and his iconic hair was much longer, reaching almost to his shoulders. Even his face...his sweet, dear face, bore the marks of adulthood; his jaw angular and his cheekbones sharp. He did not seem to take after his father, but then Sarik had yet to see Sable's mother for comparison as to how much he took after her. Sarik could only assume which one Sable actually looked like more. Either way, Sarik found himself aching, absolutely aching to take that still-slim form into his arms again. He wanted to feel the corded muscle that he could see in him from his years of working at his trade as a man, wanted to hear his adult moans and pleadings, wanted to-

"How do you find living here alone?" Sarik asked him, trying to cut off his own internal stream of desires.

Sable shrugged his shoulders, looking over his shoulder at Sarik.

"It was difficult at first; I've been used to living in such close proximity to my family for so long that I felt a bit like I had abandoned them. But then I adjusted and realized just how freeing it really was. It was nice to get away from the kid's chattering as well. I love my siblings dearly, but once I was no longer living with them I realized just how loud they were."

They shared a small chuckle, and Sable nuked the stew a few seconds later on the heater. Sarik realized that it looked newer than the rest of the kitchen. It was a high-tech piece of equipment, heating food in a matter of seconds, certainly nothing that Sable's family would have been able to afford when Sarik had first met him. Sable served up two bowls of stew and slices of warm bread. As they began to eat, an awkward silence fell over them. They were both aware of exactly how uncomfortable the situation was, but there seemed nothing to do but endure it.

"Well," Sable said at length, " you've seen my home and met most of my family. I'd like to hear a bit about you now. How are you? Marcus...um...refuses to tell me anything about you."

"Really?" Sarik asked, amused. "He refuses to tell me anything about you as well. Kept telling me over the years that I needed to speak to you myself if I wanted to know more."

"Exactly." Sable chuckled. "He's been...such a wonderful support to me. I can't even describe how many times he would see something on a screen or in the paper about me, and he would com me up to talk. He just...has this odd sense of what I need when certain situations arise."

"Is that so? I'm so glad to hear that."

"Yes. When he read that the twins were born, he even came out here to visit them." Sable took a bite of his bread to cover his nervous expression before he said, "If Marcus hasn't told you about that...then...I don't know if you'd know but, he's like a member of the family now. He comes around every so often, sends messages, coms me...the twins even started calling him 'Uncle Marcus'. He might as well be, for how much he cares for us."

Sarik could not hide his displeasure with being kept in the dark my someone so close to him.

"He has told me none of this." He said lowly, digging his spoon into the thick stew for another bite.

"I'm...I'm sorry to upset you."

"Do not be, please." Sarik said quickly, "It is of no fault of yours or Marcus', but of mine for staying away for so long."

Sable swallowed.

"Well, it's-it's not like you had a reason to be involved beyond what you were."

The young man had made the statement softly, Sarik could sense that he did not speak it out of anger or intent to wound, but was still aware of how much it could. It still sent a twinge of regret through him, and pain that Sable would think of him like that.

"Technically not," Sarik said, after a few long moments of silent eating, "but...I still should have. I mean...Even Kavieh has been by your side over these five years."

"He was my benefactor from the beginning." Sable muttered. "We are not close on any personal level, though I am so very grateful to him for all he has done; he didn't need to fund me in the beginning at all. I certainly didn't want him to then, either. But then...I had a lot to sort through in my mind and heart before I even spoke with him again."

"May I ask..." Sarik hesitated, but encouraged by Sable's gentle smile, continued, "how did you parents take to his presence in your life?"

A coy smile took Sarik by surprise as it spread onto Sable's face.

"The first time he showed up at our door, two weeks after...my Marking...my mother was so angry that she spoke for the first time since Ebony died."

"Honestly?"

"Yes. Dad was courteous enough to show him in and serve him some tea. But when mum rounded the corner, saw him, and frowns and says 'you, get out of my house!' I couldn't believe that of all the triggers to bring back her voice it would be Kavieh. She did not speak again until the twins were born; their birth healed her heart and enabled her to speak once more. She had to talk to her babies, after all. But her reaction to Kavieh makes sense, I suppose. Ironically, she was not angry at him for the death of my sister; it wasn't his fault after all and we all know that. She was angry at him for not protecting me during my time in Nueton. I tried to tell her that wasn't his fault either, but I still don't think she's forgiven him."

They were both finished with their meal, and Sable took their dishes to the sink. They were silent again during this time, but Sarik finally could not contain the question, and it slipped out.

"And have you forgiven him, Sable?"

Sable stilled as he ran the water in the sink, before he turned briefly to look at the dragon.

"To be honest...I was more angry with you..."

"...I can understand that." Sarik said, before standing up and going to the young man. "Here, let me dry those for you. It will go faster."

They washed and dried the dishes in silence for a moment before Sable cleared his throat.

"Sarik, um..." Sable began to avoid his eyes. "...I'm actually glad that you're here. I've...I've wanted to say something to you for a long time now."

"I'm here now, please tell me." Sable fumbled with the dish he was washing, dropping it back into the sink before scrambling to retrieve it.

"Yes, well, um..I wanted to...to say how sorry I am for how I treated you...last time I saw you."

Sarik turned amazed eyes toward the young man beside him, who was shaking a little and scrubbing that single dish as though it were encrusted with stones. He began speaking rapidly, the words tumbling from his mouth like water.

"I wanted to com you so many times and tell you, but at first I convinced myself that I was not to blame and that I didn't owe you anything, then I became too ashamed of my actions to go through with it, and finally I...I thought that is was too late and too much time had passed for it to matter to you. I know that I had no right to turn on you the way that I did; I was so shocked by everything that I wasn't thinking properly! I was just so hurt that I needed to find someone to blame. Anyone would have done! I wasn't thinking about facts, all I knew was that I...I had trusted you so deeply, more deeply than I had ever trusted anyone, even my own...even my own father...and I just couldn't bear the thought of that trust being betrayed. I know now that I just set myself up for pain by...by assuming that you..." Sable scrubbed the bowl even harder. "That you could actually care as deeply for me as I had come to care for you and..."

"Sable."

"I mean, I know just how much of a fool I was; I knew you for less than three days and I thought that you were the most important person in my life."

"Sable."

"It's so juvenile, I know, but I was only fourteen! How could anyone expect me not to form an attraction so strong with the first person who had ever been intimate with me? It was all so overwhelming and new and wonderful I was completely enraptured by you and everything you had to offer, I just-"

"Sable!" Sarik reached out and gently placed his hands at the back of Sable's neck. The touch seemed to paralyze the young man, and the furious scrubbing ceased instantly.

"Listen to me Sable," Sarik leaned in closer, speaking calmly and slowly, "you were absolutely not in the wrong. There is no reason for you to apologize to me."

Sable's shoulders relaxed, and Sarik felt bolder, leaning his forehead against the side of Sable's head. After a few long seconds that way, Sarik began speaking, quiet and sweet in Sable's ear.

"We have a connection, you and I. Where it came from neither of us can say, but I know that you feel it too. It binds us to each other even through all these years we've been part. I do care for you, Sable. I care more than you can possibly imagine or I can explain. "

Sable did not respond, but stood there, eyes closed, leaning against Sarik's forehead and breathing deeply. Finally, he pulled back and turned around to face the dragon.

"It is late." He said in a rough voice. "I should show you to bed."

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Sable's heart was pounding as he walked the familiar path from the kitchen, down the hallway to his bedroom. He was conscious all the while of the dragon following directly behind him. What he had just told him…it sent flutters through his heart and made him feel that warmth that he had known when they were together all those years ago. It was so long ago, and yet…it was as though no time had passed at all. Sarik was right; they had a connection that could not be denied. While that was a fine and sweet-sounding concept, it did not make the situation any less awkward. Here he was, leading the man, the dragon, who had taken his virginity, to the only room in his childhood home with a bed...only one bed...and one option for where his guest would sleep.

As he halted to open the door, Sable cleared his throat.

"This used to be my parent's bedroom."

Sarik's eyes widened as Sable walked in and switched on a lamp. The room was small, barely twelve feet by ten, with a but what it lacked in space it made up for in color. Or rather, one color in specific.

Red.

The stone walls were painted with lovely shades of red, some more light or soft, others bold and bright, forming swirling, intriguing patterns that kept Sarik's eyes moving. It was not all red of course. While it was the main theme of the room, it was accented by orange, gold, and brown. It was like walking into a small furnace. The bed in the corner was covered with blankets and quilts all made of fabric that Sable had obviously dyed himself, and all in warm shades. The most striking feature of the room, however, was not the color or pattern choices, but the single large canvas painting on the wall across from the bed.

Sarik's lips parted in wonder, as he found himself looking back into his own face. He was rendered in a lovely, static art style, wild strokes of paint somehow all coming together to form a realistic image. His own blue/green eyes were staring to the side, as if watching something out of the frame. His long red hair was depicted floating wildly, several strands across his face, giving the piece such movement that Sarik could imagine his double in the painting was standing in strong wind.

"That, is, um...one-one of my earlier works." Sable stuttered suddenly, his face possibly redder than his walls. He had obviously forgotten that Sarik would see the painting.

"It is lovely." Sarik said, his tone laced with wonder. "I'm not saying that to be self-centered either."

This little joke made Sable laugh nervously.

"I...I keep it in here because I didn't really..."

"Want anyone to see it?" Sarik finished for him, turning to smile at him fondly.

Sable nodded.

"The...the media...they tend to...make assumptions..."

The dragon's smile faltered a bit, and he asked,

"When did you paint this?"

"When I was about sixteen."

"From memory?"

"Yes."

Sarik shook his head, unbelieving. He was overwhelmed with the emotion this news stirred up in him. The weight of it crushed his heart until he felt tears lining his eyes. His little Ward was unbelievably talented, and he had no idea... In a bold move, he reached out, noticing how Sable's eyes widened ever so slightly. He let his fingers stroke the hair at the side of Sable's head, pushing a few stray curly locks behind his ear.

"You're such a treasure..."

As Sarik spoke, something caught his eye. A familiar silver band clung to the upper curve of Sable's ear, small red stones glinting in the light of the single bedroom lamp. It was the ear cuff that Sarik had bought him all those years ago. He had forgotten all about it, let alone thought that the young man would still be wearing it after all these years...Sable ducked his eyes, his cheeks so endearingly bright red that it took all of Sarik's restraint not to kiss them. Instead the dragon let out a ragged sigh and withdrew his hand reluctantly.

"Why haven't you branched off into selling your artwork? You're absolutely brilliant."

Sable shifted in his feet, looking characteristically sheepish from receiving praise.

"I put my art into my fabrics through patterns and some scenery. Fabric will always sell. Art is more of a hobby and costs more around here than it brings in."

"But, I thought Kavieh was funding you."

Sable's nervous expression automatically bloomed into an undeniably smug grin. That swift change tugged at Sarik's curiosity.

"I don't need his money anymore. I haven't for three years now."

The dragon could not help the extremely proud smile that spread on his face. Unable to find words grand enough for the happiness he felt at this news, Sarik said nothing. Sable smiled right back at him, both of them sharing an unspoken dialogue about the young man's success, and who it was that made it possible. Finally Sable grew uncomfortable, and cleared his throat again.

"Well, um...I'm just...just going to slip into my nightclothes...um...do you have any with you?"

"I'll make due, please don't concern yourself with me."

Not entirely satisfied with that answer, Sable merely nodded. He turned and walked to the opposite wall, where he completely surprised Sarik by opening a door that blended right in to the structure. The small handle was built into the door itself, not jutting out from it. The young man flipped a light on, and stepped back to show Sarik the entrance to a bathroom. It was a small thing, but it was obviously a newer addition to the little room. Pristine white tile and a gleaming mirror showed how much Sable thought of it.

"If you'd like to use the shower, I um...I had one put in."

Sable seemed well aware of how odd this comment seemed, but Sarik understood its significance immediately.

"I'm glad; I remember how much you enjoyed showering."

Now even Sarik felt awkward saying such a thing, but this time Sable was the one who smiled it away and carried the conversation beyond the embarrassing moment.

"Well, it's there if you'd like it. Except I use towels; I didn't want to spring for the expensive air-dryer."

Sarik laughed, and Sable joined him lightly.

"I bathed before I left, thank you, though."

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll just..."

Sable pulled out a drawer in the chest of drawers that stood on the same wall as the bed, and pulled out some nightclothes. He headed for the bathroom, and as he slipped inside he stopped to say,

"You can make yourself comfortable. I do need a shower, though..."

"Go ahead, I'll be fine." Sarik assured him.

The next fifteen minutes saw Sarik tug off his boots, pants, sweater, and tunic, leaving him in his undershirt and shorts. He folded everything neatly, placing them on the small table that stood at the side of the bed. There was no other furniture in the room. He spent the rest of the time pacing, tracing the bold patterns on the walls with his fingers. 'My Sable painted these,' he thought, his heart swelling with pride and...and...

"You could have sat on the bed." Sable's voice broke through Sarik's thoughts. He had not even heard the door open. He looked up from the wall to see Sable standing there framed by the black doorway, rubbing his damp hair with a bright red towel. It made the thick red stripe in his hair even more noticeable. Sable was nearly glowing with freshness, his skin flushed and smooth. His nightshirt hung open at the top, and his feet were bare, peeking out from under the long ends of his night pants. He looked absolutely darling.

"I was too busy admiring your work." Sarik explained. "There was a lot to see."

Sable chuckled, walking over to the bed and continuing to rub his head with the towel.

"It's just a few freehand patterns I did when I got this room. There was no color anywhere in the entire house until I started to...influence my father to spruce it up. I think it was hard for him to accept that I was making more money than he was, even though he had wished me success from the start. It was a relief when my parents moved into the new house and I was free to do what I wished with this place. I love it so much...it's the home I grew up with, but so much richer somehow. Take this room, for example; it used to be so cold before I..."

Sable's voice faded as warm hands covered his own on the towel. Sarik carefully pried the young man's fingers away, and took over the drying himself, feeling the weight of his thick black hair through the material. Sable had not even heard the dragon walk up behind him.

"You have done wonderfully, Sable. I could not even have imagined you fairing so well. It warms my heart so..."

Sarik leaned his chin on the top of Sable's head, breathing in the freshly-washed scent of his hair. The young man shivered, his hands flexing at his sides.

"Um...Sarik...what are you..."

"Forgive me, Sable. I should have been there for you through all of it. How can I ever atone for leaving you alone?"

Sarik let the towel drop from Sable's head, his hands resting gently on his shoulders, the warmth of Sable's body seeping into his palms. Sable drew in a quiet breath and responded softly,

"What nonsense. It wasn't...it wasn't your responsibility, after all."

"I don't care," Sarik said, his voice breaking somewhat for the first time, "I cared for you so deeply, Sable. I should have been there to support you all this time."

The dragon's hands slid down and up Sable's arms, stroking them carefully.

"Well," Sable whispered, "you...you are here now."

"Yes..."

Sarik's lips were drawn irresistibly to the smooth, pale column of Sable's neck. As though pulled by some invincible power, he leaned his head down and fit his lips into the curve between neck and shoulder. Sable's skin was silken against his mouth, begging for him to open wider and taste more...more...

"Ah...Sa-Sarik..."

Sable spoke as though trying to decide whether to protest or not. Sarik slipped his arms around Sable's slim waist, still much thicker than he remembered, filled with strength. He pulled him back, molding their bodies together and pressing his tongue against the sensitive spot just beneath the young man's ear. He felt that body tremble against him and Sable's dark head fell to the side slightly.

"Sarik, we...we shouldn't...we can't..."

"What's to stop us?"

"Please...please...I...I..."

"Can you forgive me, Sable? I'm begging you, can you ever forgive my neglect?"

With this one last plea, Sable's body went utterly still, and a breath later he turned. He stared up at Sarik with a hungry, desperate expression, a touch of pain tightening his brows.

"You don't know what you're asking. Do you...do you know how badly I wanted to see you?"

Sarik felt the tension beginning to flow from the young man, and he released him, carefully stepping back. Sable's face was tortured as he spoke.

"As I said, I know it was not your responsibility to care. But after...after what we shared together I thought, foolishly, that I might be different to you...I'm not talking about my Marking, either!"

Sarik wanted to close his eyes against that pained voice, but he forced himself to watch Sable's face.

"We spent a very unorthodox second night together. Do you remember, Sarik? The night before I was to go home we made love again, and I'm still unsure if that was breaking policy or not! It was as though our very souls were connected with our bodies, Sarik! I could see into your mind, I could hear your thoughts, I...I was aware of you on a level that I cannot even begin to describe! If that is something that you were used to, then you might have told me instead of letting me think that it was commonplace for your kind and nothing that made me special to you. I could care less about your knowledge of Kavieh, that was nothing to become upset over and you were legally bound to keep it to yourself. What I do care about is why, with all that we shared that had nothing to do with being a Marker or Ward, you would just..."

Sable's voice began to break, and Sarik's shark eyes sighted tears. The young man faltered before wrapping his arms around himself and looking away as he continued,

"You left me alone. You didn't even com me. Marcus told me you hardly talked about me. This made me sure that you felt nothing toward me at all, and yet there was still a very insistent part of me that caused me to hold out hope. I-I tried to find others. I tried so hard to force myself to love the one who seemed, by all natural rights, destined to be my wife...but I couldn't. I even failed in a relationship with another man. He was so good to me, unfailingly caring and so gentle, but...again, it was as though I could see how much I needed you instead. I couldn't fight it, couldn't find fulfillment in anyone else's lips or hands. A small handful of kisses and I just couldn't keep it up...I've felt cursed by my attachment to you! I knew there could be no one else for me, and yet I never thought that you'd ever feel the same! An here you are, standing in my house and asking me to forgive you?"

Sable stopped talking to breathe heavily for a few seconds, recovering from his long speech. Sarik felt his heart twisting painfully. He swallowed hard as he drew what little breath he himself had left.

"It is not commonplace." He said softly, almost inaudible.

"What?" Sable choked out, looking up at him.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing of what you just said, is commonplace. It is special. Nothing like this has ever happened to one of my kind, or one that my kind have been involved with. You were never just another job for me. Never. And I should have told you so. From the first night I should have told you so, because I knew it even then. I...I do not even deserve your forgiveness for the pain I have caused you."

Sable blinked, looking confused by Sarik's words.

"So..." He asked slowly, "this isn't...something that happens because of intimacy with a dragon? The inability to love others the same way? Or the...um..." he looked shy again at once, but went on, "impotence...when I tried to be intimate with them?"

The dragon's eyes went wide with shock.

"What? You couldn't...I...I haven't been able to either." It was Sable's turn to look surprised. "I thought I was going mad, Sable."

"Yes, exactly!"

"All I could think about was you, and the longer we were apart the more my heart ached with loneliness."

"It hurt so much."

Sarik took a step toward Sable as he spoke,

"I couldn't share my bed with anyone to dull the pain. It was as though you were there to stop me, remind me that I should be faithful to you."

Sable stepped forward as well, bringing them closer.

"It felt wrong to let anyone else touch me."

"Or to touch anyone else."

The dragon tentatively reached out his hand once more, as though fearing it would be burnt. Sable let the larger fingers slip into his own, and pull his hand up to twine between their chests.

"I believe something very special happened between us, Sable." Sarik said softly, staring into his eyes intently. "A connection that was fated from the day my race gained self-awareness. Something deep and strong has bound us together and I believe it is against divine will to stay apart any longer. Being alone will...oh, Sable...being without you...has been slowly driving me mad..."

The young man answered with a small sob, and he suddenly embraced the taller man as tightly as he could. Likewise the dragon pulled Sable close, as close as he could possibly hug the dear boy he had wanted to hold for so many years. He was so much larger than he remembered, his frame now that of a man; his shoulders broader and his head reaching his own shoulder. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other and their chests heaving with silent sobs for a few more minutes before Sable pulled back almost violently. Sarik was afraid he might be angry again and step away, but instead...

Sable kissed him.

It was as though everything else in the entire universe melted away, and all that remained was their lips, greedily devouring each other. Not even taking the time to slowly relearn contours and curves first, they smashed together, moving with a speed that suggested they were afraid one of them would vanish into thin air at any second. Sable felt his heart racing as long arms snaked tighter around his waist. He pulled back slightly and stared up into Sarik's face by the dim light. Those bi-colored eyes were glowing with desire and compassion. The dragon leaned his head down, and Sable leaned his head up, and their mouths met again.

A very small nudge of tongue teased the edge of Sable's lip, and something snapped within him. He began devouring Sarik's mouth, taking the dragon by surprise with his passion. He was tall enough now that Sarik did not need to lean down nearly as much, and Sable used his new height to his advantage, forcing his mouth upon Sarik's like a starving man. He shoved his hands into the curtain of red hair that hung about Sarik' neck and shoulders, tugging at it almost harshly as he tried to grasp at all of it at once. The more slender body pressed itself so forcefully against the broader one that Sarik nearly staggered back before pushing back with a balancing urgency.

"My god." Sable moaned rapidly between heated, lengthy kisses.

Sarik's hands likewise began groping roughly at Sable's back, his waist, his hips, anywhere he could as though unable to decide where he wanted to touch him first. He loved the feeling of Sable's hair, bearing his Mark and longer than he had ever seen it, so soft and curling in his fingers. Damn, he loved the feel of the entirety of the young man whom he had desperately craved for so many long, lonely years. The mighty dragon actually felt his own knees grow weak at the intensity pouring forth from the smaller man. It was incredible, beyond anything the young boy had timidly tried to lavish upon him that forbidden second night they spent together, when he had tried to reciprocate but had been too shy. The young man in his arms now was anything but shy, tugging at him, growling into his mouth, moaning like Sarik had never though he would hear him do.

Sable suddenly stepped back wards, pulling Sarik with him as he went. He turned the tables on the taller man, pushing him down roughly onto the bed. With hasty instructions in a panting voice, Sable had the dragon sitting in the center of the bed. Instantly he knelt beside him and swung one leg over Sarik's thighs, straddling his lap shamelessly. Sable sat up on his knees, seized the thin, vulnerable fabric of Sarik's undershirt, and with wild ferocity, bore down once more on his mouth. So long he had dreamed of this, the day when his Marker would come back to him, thinking it no more than a youngster's fantasy. It was nearly unbelievable to him that his was actually happening, but he happily accepted it nonetheless. Desperate

He pulled back with a mighty gasp, quickly yanking his shirt up and over his head, throwing it across the room before lunging right back down to that gloriously warm mouth. Sarik's large hands had been latched onto his hips, but now they ran up along his back, coaxing shivers out of the young man that he had not felt since the last time Sarik had done this to him. He clutched at Sarik frantically, running his fingers continuously through the wealth of red hair, twining the silken strands around his arms and using them to tilt Sarik's head back even more as he plunged his tongue into his mouth over and over. It was wild, insane, beautiful. Sable felt like his entire body was on fire, raging through him with desire. He could hear Sarik grunting deeply into the kiss, could feel the pounding of his heart in the palms pressed so firmly into his bare back, and he felt like he would drown in this intoxicating embrace.

After several moments of frenzied kissing and groping, Sarik felt something change in the pace of Sable's kisses. Something hot and wet dripped onto the dragon's cheek, and he realized that Sable was crying. Before he could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Sable broke down, breaking the kiss and just holding him tightly, cradling his head at his slender neck and trembling.

"I missed you so much." He whispered, fast and shuddery.

Sarik's heart melted, and he felt tears stinging his own eyes. He pulled Sable closer, nuzzling deeper into the space he was being held. He gently kissed the soft flesh of Sable's neck, smelling that long-lost but familiar scent of his skin and something else that might have been chemicals from his paints or dyes. It was magnificent.

"Don't ever leave me again."

It was soft, pleading, broken. Such a quiet and desperate request, yet underlined with a demand that Sarik dare not ignore.

The dragon gently pulled and tugged at the young man's body until it lay beneath him, spread out and ready for his response. Ice-grey eyes looked up at him like pools of tears, and he leaned down to kiss the leaking trails away down those pale cheeks.

"Never."


	22. Chapter 22

Sarik marveled at the body that lay under him. It had changed so much from the willowy form of the young boy he had known. The softness of the skin remained, but Sable's hands were rough in places from the harsh nature of dyes and the hard work required to work cloth. His once thin arms were now sculpted with lean muscle, strong as they tugged Sarik down for another heated kiss. His mouth, once so shy and cautious, was fierce and aggressive, hotter than Sarik remembered and eager in its mission to merge with Sarik's own. Those moans were deeper, the higher-pitched cries of a boy long gone and replaced with masculine vibrato. That body...as he stroked it Sarik could feel the thickness of his strong torso, widened into manhood and only a little soft in his stomach to tell of his remaining youth. Sarik kissed Sable's chest, thrilled at the darkness of his nipples, which he remembered as more pink and tender, but the response was the same when he sucked them; Sable arched upward and squirmed.

"Ah! Sarik! Oh! Yes...yes!"

Lovely.

There was even a very thin scattering of curly hair that met Sarik's lips and fingers as he stroked that chest, broader than he remembered. Sable's scent had also changed; less sweet and more spice. It was thrilling, and Sarik loved him even more now because of these changes. He loved the strong grip on his shoulders and the deep groans coming from that passionate mouth, holding nothing back as Sable had when he was young. The time for teasing was most definitely not now. There would be time for that later, but for now, they just needed it, now, at once.

Sable clawed at Sarik's back as the dragon rubbed his large hands over his sides and chest, kissing all over the front of his body.

"Yes, Sarik! Oh god I missed this! I wanted this for so long...all these years...I never stopped dreaming about you. Your hands, your lips-ahh! Yes!-your voice. Don't stop, don't stop."

Never had Sable been so bold when he was younger. Then again, after all these years waiting for him, Sarik realized Sable was done wasting time and denying what he wanted. Sarik was kissing Sable's stomach, enjoying the small mound of softness there that told him Sable was eating well, which thrilled him. He let his hand move down to the waistband of Sable's sleeping trousers. He slid his fingers in and ran them along the warm flesh beneath, teasingly, waiting for permission.

"Get the damn things off me, Sarik! I can't wait!" Sable commanded breathlessly. The dragon chuckled.

"You've become so forward since we were last together. Do you remember how-"

"You want to reminisce?! Now?!" Sable interrupted, incredulous as Sarik began tugging his trousers off. "Later. Right now, this is what we need."

"Hmmm, I can see that." Sarik purred, gazing down between those strong, pale thighs to behold the hard erection standing upright in its nest of dark curls.

"Please, Sarik..." Sable murmured, shifting his hips on the bed, spreading his thighs wider, "please...oh please..."

Sarik's heart jolted as though it had been shocked as arousal shot through him at the words. He knelt down comfortably between Sable's legs, taking that eager cock into one hand and stroking it. Sarik felt the shudder that went through Sable's entire body, and it urged him to guide that hard member to his mouth.

"Oh yesyesyespleasepleaseplease..." Sable murmured, stilling as Sarik's lips leaned closer, and closer...His hot tongue swiped at the underside, root to tip.

"Ahhh! god...oh god...ohhh..." Sarik felt Sable's erection twitch against his tongue, and it was so arousing he felt himself go as painfully hard as he felt Sable was. "More, Sarik, more..."

"Greedy little thing this time around, aren't you?" Sarik asked with a chuckle before lapping at the tender crown. Sable's cries became a bit more reminiscent of his younger self then, as Sarik began to flutter the tip of his tongue against the slit and around the head and down the underside. Thrills of pleasure were running through Sable's flesh, driving him wild with desire for more of that stimulation that he had been without for years. He gripped the sheets beneath him as he fought the urge to thrust his hips.

"How can I-Ah! So...good!-how can I not be greedy? I've-ohhh, oh yes, yes-been without this for-oh my god there, right there!-for so long. I feel like I've been going mad!"

"I as well." Sarik mumbled, latching his lips to the side of Sable's cock and sucking at him. The young man jerked his hips, and Sarik gladly held him down and slid his mouth over his entire length. The sudden action took Sable by surprise and he let out an odd strangled sound that evolved into a moan as Sarik began to bob his head.

"Sarik! Sarik! It's been so long. Ahhh! Ohhh! Don't stop! So good! Oh my god!"

Sable continued to groan and cry out and mumble affirmatives as Sarik sucked him in deep and bobbed his head, pausing to lick him every now and again. The taste of Sable was charmingly the same, so rich and sweet. The girth was the same as well, though he had been large even when he was nearly fifteen. Sable tried so hard to keep from bucking up into Sarik's throat, but it was impossible to at least undulate a little bit, swirling his cock in Sarik's mouth somewhat. That felt so incredible...surrounded by heat and the slippery softness of those cheeks and tongue...Sable whined and let his fingers slip into Sarik's long hair, capturing long strands and sifting it through his trembling fingers.

"You're so lovely." Sarik pulled back to whisper, smothering kisses against Sable's swollen sac.

"You-you always were a sweet-talker..." Sable managed to whisper back while writhing beneath Sarik's mouth.

"I only ever spoke the truth to you." Sarik assured him, running his tongue against the tender strip of flesh beneath Sable's balls.

"Oh not that!" Sable huffed out in one short breath, gasping as Sarik teased the flesh with flicks of his tongue. "God..."

Sarik hummed against him and stroked his cock with both hands, ensuring that every inch of it was enveloped in the sheath if his fingers and palms.

"So good...so good..." Sable whimpered, shifting his hips and giving in to the urge to thrust upward slightly into those hands.

"Good boy." Sarik said, sitting up again to lower his hands just enough so he could suckle the head again.

Sable yelled as Sarik began squeezing and rubbing him with both hands while sucking his crown at the same time. It was divine, and Sable felt the rising pleasure in his flesh, threatening to spill at any moment.

"I can't...god, Sarik, I can't..."

"You don't need to." Sarik told him soothingly.

"But...I'm...I'm going to..."

"Then go ahead."

"Too soon..."

"We have all night, so come on...come on...come."

Sable tossed back his head and panted like an animal as Sarik increased his stroking, his sucking, the pressure and slickness and pleasure growing to an unbearable point until the dam holding back the flood broke within him and the liquid evidence of his release poured out of him and into Sarik's waiting mouth.

"Ohhh! Sarik! Ahhhh!"

Sable's strangled cry was incredibly erotic, and Sarik felt his own erection throb painfully. He swallowed down every drop the young man had to offer him, humming around the overly-sensitive flesh that still pulsed in his hands. He pumped him dry, until Sable pushed his hands away.

"Stop, stop, it's too much now..." He panted, breathing hard and looking at Sarik with heavy-lidded eyes. Sarik reached up to stroke the red mark in Sable's hair. It was lovely against the natural jet-black. The young man sighed and leaned his head toward Sarik's touch, opening those bright eyes and looking up at him with a lazy smile. That look pierced Sarik's heart, melted his resolve, and called him to lean down and share a breathless kiss with those soft lips. Sarik was just wondering how he would survive waiting until Sable had recovered, when the young man sat up and wrestled Sarik onto his back. He instantly began yanking at the hem of Sarik's undershirt, growling as he forced it off of him.

"It's been too long since I last saw you naked." He said in a voice that was still was breathless. "And I'm not the delicate flower I was last time; I intend to explore inch of your body."

He all but ripped the shirt over Sarik's head before going in for another breath-taking kiss. His slender but strong hands ran down the front of the dragon's chest, marveling at the firmness of the muscles. The young man was wild, devouring Sarik like an animal despite the fact that he was the human. His mouth began to suck viciously as the side of Sarik's neck, little moans of need sliding between his working lips while his hands groped and slid there way all over Sarik's body. Sable kneaded at his broad shoulders, ran his hands down Sarik's sides, across the front of his taunt stomach, and then down his clothed thighs. All the while his mouth, hot and wet, was torturing and pleasuring Sarik's neck and shoulders.

"You're so passionate..." Sarik groaned, groping along Sable's own body as the young man began to pull at the waist of Sarik's shorts. "Not that I'm complaining...but what happened to the gentle lad who blushed merely to look at me?"

"Oh he's still in here somewhere." Sable said against Sarik's chest, his mouth dangerously close to one of Sarik's nipples. "But I have no patience for him right now; I need you, I NEED you, Sarik! Now! Get these bloody things OFF!"

Sarik was a bit startled at Sable's aggressiveness, but thrilled at the same time. He shucked out of his shorts like they were poisonous, and Sable paused for a brief moment to look down on him. His silver eyes widened, and a wanton groan ground out of his throat, making Sarik reach up and bury his fingers in Sable's thick hair.

"You're so lovely..." Sable nearly whined, the need in his voice almost sounding like that of a child seeking sweets. His expression looked nearly pained as he tilted his head slightly to the side and continued to stare at Sarik's hard erection, which stood hungrily, pointing upward with its need. Sable gripped Sarik's thighs and pushed them apart as he moved closer, taking Sarik's cock in his hand firmly.

"Ahhh..." Sarik sighed, his eyes closing with how good that felt. He had not felt anyone's hand besides his own since he had last been with Sable, and it was incredible. Sable leaned close and panted against the side of Sarik's cock as he rubbed it harder. "Sable...oh Sable..."

Sarik's hips jerked upward, but Sable was having none of it. He shifted quickly, drawing Sarik's legs back together and then sitting down on them to keep him still as he increased his pace.

"So forceful..." Sarik moaned, his body stiffening as Sable pressed his thumb into the tip of his erection, rubbing deep and stimulating circles into the sensitive flesh. "So good..."

"I can't have you jumping around too much." Sable chuckled, and pressed his lips against Sarik's shaft. They nibbled on him gently but eagerly, sliding up to the head and closing his mouth over it. Sarik groaned loudly and slid his fingers into Sable's black hair, fighting the urge to grip the long locks tightly. It was difficult when that mouth was suckling at his head like a man who was starving. It was most likely a good move for Sable to sit on Sarik's legs, because the dragon wanted to buck and thrust his cock as deeply into that mouth as he could, despite knowing that Sable wasn't taking in that much.

"Your mouth is so hot..." Sarik murmured deeply. "God...where did you learn to do this?"

Sable pulled back briefly, his hands still stroking and rubbing Sarik's cock as well as his balls.

"Do you really need to ask? I still remember how you did it to me. I wish I had done this to you that second night we passed together...I've always regretted it and now I'm making up for lost time."

"You're doing it very well." Sarik rumbled, tossing his head back and gripping Sable's hair. His thighs trembled beneath Sable and the young man grinned, returning to sucking and rubbing Sarik's weeping erection. He hummed greedily around the hard flesh as he bobbed his head, his eyes closed in relish. Sarik endured the delicious torment as long as he could before gently pushing Sable's head away.

"Please, Sable...you're pleasing me very much, but...I don't want to come before...before...I have you."

Sable's eyes softened with realization and he smiled a bit bashfully.

"Well then...I suppose I should let you up, eh?"

The dragon chuckled as Sable eased off of him and in the same motion reached for the bedside table. He pulled out the top drawer and retrieved a bottle of lotion. He passed the bottle to Sarik, who sat up on his knees and kissed Sable again. The young man's hands sunk into Sarik's long hair and rubbed his scalp as their tongues tangled and moved against each other.

"I want you inside me again." Sable whispered, rubbing his body erotically against Sarik's, letting the dragon feel his renewed hardness against his thigh. "Oh please...ready me. I can't wait."

"Lie back." Sarik panted against his ear, pushing on his chest gently with his free hand. When Sable all but flopped ungracefully onto his back in his eagerness, Sarik popped the lid off of the bottle. The lotion inside was smooth, smelling of sandalwood, and Sarik rubbed a good amount onto his fingers. His other hand rubbed Sable's thigh soothingly, his heart racing at the sight of Sable breathing heavily as he wiggled his hips and bit into his bottom lip.

"I want you..." Sarik groaned, his heart fluttering as he leaned his forehead against Sable's. The young man shuddered as those long fingers began rubbing the lotion against his entrance, stimulating the sensitive flesh there.

"I want you as well, Sarik...hurry...please...I can't wait."

"It's been too long, Sable, I don't want to hurt you." Sarik said, stroking the side of Sable's face and kissing his temple tenderly.

"I don't care," Sable all but wailed, pressing his opening up against Sarik's rubbing fingers, "I don't care just..."

Sarik slid a finger inside, and Sable let out a long breath, his mouth tightening up. Sarik knew he should go slow, but Sable seemed so desperate that he added a second finger shortly after the first. Sable's eyes closed and he whined quietly.

"Does it hurt, Sable? I can go slower-."

"No! It's fine...it's good...please, just...please give yourself to me!" Sable's voice was strained with desperation, his hands clinging to Sarik's shoulders as he begged to be taken. Sarik was having trouble denying him, between the utter tightness of his body around his two fingers, and the enchanting way the young man kept rolling his head on the pillow...he felt lost.

Sable, meanwhile, could literally feel his body throbbing for Sarik's cock, screaming out for it regardless of how long it had been since he had been intimate with anyone that way. It was as though a deep, aching need had risen in him and pushed away all discomfort. Like breathing it was something he could not do without one more second. He could not think of anything but Merging their bodies together.

He jerked his hips upward impatiently and cried out a loud, wanton sound.

"I can't wait, Sarik, please!"

"Alright, Sable, alright." Sarik breathed, his chest so tight with longing that he could barely speak. He poured some of the lotion on his palm and his breath hitched as he slicked his cock quickly. He put the bottle aside on the bedside table before bracing himself on either side of Sable's head, staring down into his face as he lined himself up. Sable's arms instantly latched onto Sarik's neck, as well as his slender legs hooking eagerly onto his hips and holding tight.

"Do it, please, do it, do it..." Sable whined, leaning up to press haphazard kisses against Sarik's cheek as he begged him.

With a low groan, Sarik slid inside.

It was like coming home. Finding something that had been lost but never forgotten. Catching a phantom that seemed always out of reach. It was incandescently perfect.

As their bodies linked together and began to move almost at once, They both began making sounds. Cries of pleasure, pleas for more, whispers of affection...incredibly, there was no pain for Sable, no discomfort even, only a wonderful slickness and fullness. He felt their breathing match in an odd, other-worldly manner as thrust after thrust of Sarik's powerful hips flushed pleasure through their bodies. Nothing had felt this perfect for either of them in the five years they had been apart. The ease with which their delight was taken and received and shared between them was enough to set their heads spinning.

"Sarik, Sarik don't stop, oh, don't stop that's lovely..."

Sable kept on chanting Sarik's name as his main litany of enjoyment. Sarik, meanwhile, panted and whispered into Sable's ear.

"You feel so wonderful...I've missed this so much...It's so good..."

Sable's hands scratched relentlessly down Sarik's back as his hot spot was pounded over and over, sending jolts of unearthly pleasure through him. His legs trembled as they clung to Sarik's waist, and eventually dropped to loosely cradle Sarik's calves.

Several long, unbroken, wonderful moments of quick thrusts and shuddering bodies, and something happened. Something that Sable had forgotten about after all these years...He felt his mind enveloped by the warmth of Sarik's own consciousness. Little by little Sable became aware of thoughts running through his head that were not his own. Memories of their first night together flashing from Sarik's point of view, brought up by their current lovemaking. For confusing flashes of seconds he was looking down on his own fourteen-year-old face, twisting and melting in pleasure. It was so strange as he kept his eyes open the entire time these flashes came to him, staring up into Sarik's irresistibly handsome face. It was as though what he beheld with his eyes and what he was seeing in his mind overlapped in the oddest way. Beyond flashes of images came penetrating emotions. A brief second of deep regret revealed the loneliness of Sarik's life in the years they had been apart, the longing he had held for the younger man. Also came the joy and delight of being back with him, the fear of rejection that he had felt...so much at once that Sable could barely handle it.

But he wasn't frightened. He couldn't even explain to himself why he was not, but somehow because he was with Sarik, it almost felt like something normal. They were merging everything. Not only their bodies, but their minds. Sable wondered through the haze of emotion, physical pleasure, and mental entanglement, whether Sarik was feeling through his memories and emotions as well. He hoped he was. Suddenly, as their physical intimacy peaked, Sable was hit with an overwhelming truth. He could not find the memory or story to uphold this truth in Sarik's own mind, but he knew with everything he was that at this moment he needed to call out a name...a name that by all rights belonged to Sarik...

"Sorrin!" Sable moaned, quietly at first, fighting the odd urge to do so. But when he said it again, a bit louder, Sarik looked straight into his eyes...and there was recognition. A surge of nostalgia coated Sable's mind from Sarik's and it was so powerful that it overcame him, flooded him until he felt that incredible joy as though it were from his very own heart. He began smiling like a madman, laughing a bit brokenly with the force of Sarik's thrusts.

"Sorrin!" Sable cried out loudly, "Sorrin! Sorrin!"

They were both weeping suddenly, tears of indescribably pleasure and delight that stemmed from that strong emotion Sarik's mind was pouring all over them both.

In an instant...it was all over. They spilled over at nearly the exact same moment, wailing and spilling their heat together. They rode the high of it for several long seconds as Sarik thrust slowly, over and over, until he utterly collapsed directly beside Sable. He wrapped his arms tightly around the young man and drew him in close, their bodies still connected. His great panting breaths, Sarik all but pulled the hair back from Sable's ear to huff into it, with heart-wrenching sincerity,

"I love you...god I love you..."

))((

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Despite the heated and transcendent reunion Sarik and Sable had shared, their energy was so spent by the time they finished and lay recovering they both immediately dozed on and off, wrapped up in each other but shifting every now and again to get more comfortable. It was not long before they were both slipping into a deep, much-needed sleep after the very long and emotional evening.

A slight ache in his shoulder woke Sarik many hours later. His fuzzy brain tried to figure out why the bed felt so small and different from his own, and why there was something soft but heavy pinning his arm out to the side. He tugged a bit on his arm, moaning groggily, and then the heavy weight shifted, giving an answering moan. Sarik's eyes popped open and instantly remembered everything. The weight was Sable's lovely head, hair in complete disarray from sleep and most likely the damage done by Sarik's hungry fingers the night before. His pale face was barely illuminated by a faint glow that escaped the edges of the single curtained window. His white skin was softened by sleep-pinkened cheeks and long black lashes resting on them delicately. That lovely slender neck was using Sarik's arm as a pillow, and Sable's head had turned toward him, his rosy lips slightly parted for his sleep-heavy breathing.

Sarik suddenly thought the ache in his shoulder would be worth it if he could stare at that beautiful sight forever. Unfortunately, his heart and body fought it out and his body won. He ever so carefully tried to tug his arm out from beneath the angelic head, but in doing so Sable stirred, silver eyes blinking open. The dragon thought that the sweet young man was most likely as confused as he was when he first awoke, because those bright eyes stared wide open for a few seconds before softening out as they took in the situation. Once he had remembered, a smile spread those lovely lips, and Sable lifted his head to allow Sarik to remove his arm. But Sarik would not let the fact that his arm needed to be pulled in close to his chest stop him from touching Sable. He groped for Sable's hand, and laced their fingers when he found it, holding it up by his chest. It was the perfect compromise.

"Good morning." He said softly, rubbing his thumb gently along the top of Sable's hand.

"Hmmmnnn..." Sable responded, and moved to nuzzle up against Sarik, as they had moved apart slightly in sleep. Sarik's other arm came around him and held him gratefully.

It was obviously very early in the morning in the world beyond their little love nest. The cold winter winds howled just beyond the reinforced walls of Sable's home, no longer slipping through cracks but providing an eerie atmosphere. Still, there was something...romantic about it.

"What time do you think it is?" Sable mumbled a few long moments later, pressing his face against Sarik's chest. The dragon kissed his head and stroked his back, holding him closer.

"Does it matter all that much?" Sarik whispered back, trailing gentle fingers down Sable's bare arm.

"I suppose not." Sable replied, pressing fluttery kisses to Sarik's warm skin. "I'm closed today anyway so I don't have to get up early to work or open the shop."

"Besides," Sarik said, tilting Sable's chin up to look into his lazy, contented eyes and even more contented smile, "now that I'm with you again, time itself can go to hell if it thinks it's going to steal you away from me."

They got shared a quiet, affectionate laugh. Sarik's eyes narrowed a bit as he looked down at Sable.

"Sable...you're hair..."

"What about it?"

Sarik ran a few fingers through it, on the side of the Mark. It had been so easy to miss before, when that hair had been such a mess, but as he had been combing it out with his fingers he realized the obvious.

"My Mark...it has spread."

Sable's eyes grew larger at this, and he sat up a bit more.

"What? What do you mean it's spread?"

"It's covering half your head now. Exactly half of your head...the whole side."

The young man wanted to bolt right up out of bed and rush to look in his bathroom mirror, but he felt so warm and comfortable nestled in Sarik's arms and surrounded by his warmth that he just couldn't tear himself away even for such a declaration as this.

"Why do you think that is?" Sable asked, reaching up to touch his hair along with Sarik, as though he could sense the color difference if he could not see it. Sarik shook his head.

"I'm not sure. It's possible that my Mark is growing each time we make love. But then...I know of dragons who carry on relationships with humans and I have never seen their Marks grow like this."

Sable ducked his head as a thought struck him. Sarik noticed the blush and the bashful smile, and refused to let his lover get away with it.

"What was that shy look for?" He asked teasingly, kissing Sable's forehead. "What are you thinking, eh?"

"Just that..." Sable bit his bottom lip in slight embarrassment as he said, "at the rate we're going I'm going to be a complete redhead in no time."

Sarik's loud laughter drowned out the sound of the wind momentarily as he pulled Sable in closer to kiss him playfully over and over.

"You're such a treasure." He muttered as they both lay their heads back on the pillows.

"I love when you call me that." Sable said softly, tracing Sarik's collarbone with a single finger. "It makes me feel...so special."

"As it should, because you are." Sarik whispered, his breath brushing Sable's bangs.

A few silent moments passed blissfully, and Sable was just about to doze off again when Sarik spoke once more.

"You called out the same name you did when we first made love."

All weariness fled from Sable and his silver eyes opened brightly to stare directly into the deep green and blue depths of his lover's.

"I remember this time." Sable answered. "I had forgotten when you asked me all that time ago, but...this time I remember. I could feel your mind, Sarik...just like that first night but so much stronger and clearer. Then that name just struck me. I can't explain it I just...knew it was important. Sorrin. Who is Sorrin?"

There was an almost uncomfortable pause, in which Sable felt that Sarik was trying to decide whether or not to answer the question. It must be of such importance that he had to think on it at length. Finally Sarik gave a deep sigh and said, very quietly.

"I have never told anyone of this. Not even Marcus knows of this truth."

Sable let the words sink in as he realized their significance.

"Sarik, if you don't want to tell me, then I-."

"I must tell you, Sable. You are...you are a part of me...more than anyone else in my entire world. You need to know the truth. Will you listen?"

The young man nodded seriously, his face going almost grim as he waited for whatever it was that Sarik was going to reveal to him. The dragon held Sable at the waist as though to ground himself as he began his tale.

"My birth was an oddity amongst dragons. My kind are born from eggs, as you know, and evolve the ability to change forms over their youth. Well...I was born along with an identical twin, from the same egg. It has happened before, but it is so rare that most of my kind in my colony did not even know it was possible."

"You had a twin?" Sable asked, unable to hold in his excitement at this discovery. Sarik patiently nodded before continuing,

"Yes. We were typical twins, really. The same in every way, very close to one another and thinking on the same track at all times. If we were ever separated we would somehow know where the other was. The Elder in our colony told us from the time we could understand him, that our birth was a sign that a prophesy was going to be fulfilled in our lifetime. It gave us big heads throughout our childhood, receiving so much attention and being told that we were special all the time."

Sable sat up on one elbow to pay even closer attention, his face enraptured by Sarik' background.

"So the birth of two dragons from one egg meant the fulfillment of a prophecy..." He murmured to himself, amazed. "Is there any way to know which one?"

"None," Sarik answered, "not until the prophecy actually comes about."

"It's not like there are many prophecies at all." Sable pointed out. "At least not any that are taken seriously."

"Humans are so swift to disregard ancient words. It is a miracle that your kind even accepts that a magical beast such as myself exists." Sarik chuckled.

"I can't deny that." Sable replied, then his face suddenly flooded with realization. "Sarik...I've always wanted to see your real form. I've seen image-captures of you of course, but...I'd like to really see you as a dragon."

"I'd like that too, Sable. However, it is too cold down below the mountains for me to take my true form."

Sable dropped his head back down and rubbed his forehead against Sarik's.

"Keep telling me about your brother." He said quietly. Sarik stroked Sable's hair and began to speak the story into it.

"When I first began my company, I was still very young. Not by humans of course, but I was and my inexperience was cause for a rough start. Without the support of my brother I would have never continued to build up DragonSkin. I was faced with opposition from both humans and my own kind. The idea of selling our discarded skins seemed offensive to some of my fellow dragons, and some humans formed groups to protest for the same reason. It was difficult to get it up and running. As I said, this was many years ago, long before you were born. DragonSkin was not a widespread utility as it is in this world you know. The public was unsure it would be something they wanted. My brother and I were in business together, and after a long stretch of time building up our stock we were on the cusp of releasing the first few lines of products. It was a very exciting time...and then..."

Sarik paused and took a deep breath. Sable lifted a hand to his smooth cheek, silently urging him to continue while letting Sarik know he was there for him.

"We had a release party for the line of DragonSkin products; guests, high-glitz, all that. There were a number of other dragons from my own colony and others that were there to support the Dragon Twins. In the midst of the festivities, however, my brother collapsed. Froth spewed from his mouth and his body jerked like he was having a seizure. His forms began to shift out of control, a wing sprouting out of his back, or his snout forming before fading back into human form. It was a...a horrible scene to witness. His body could not withstand that kind of changing back and forth, it is simply not done even with magic. It takes a very old dragon with much mental discipline to be able to maintain the appearance of wings or horns in our human forms. He...he died there...on the floor of our first factory."

Sable was horrified, and his heart broke as he saw the tears forming in Sarik's downcast eyes. He kissed the dragon's chin gently before asking, very tenderly,

"Did you ever find out what had happened to him?"

"Yes. It appeared he had been poisoned by someone. Later it was discovered that my glass contained the exact same substance used to kill my brother. However, for some reason it had not affected me at all. No one could explain it, not even the Elders in my colony when in my anger I demanded to know why he had been taken from me while I survived."

"Oh, Sarik..." Sable whispered, tears rising in his own eyes. "I...I know the pain of losing a sibling...but...a twin...must have been so much harder."

Sarik shook his head on the pillow and clasped Sable's head a bit tighter to draw him in closer.

"There are not levels of pain when it comes to loss, dear one. But yes...half of myself died with my brother. I was determined not to let those who would scheme against us win. I fought for my company and my cause to survive. I continued to build up DragonSkin until it became one of the most popular companies in the entire country. And I was convicted that my brother's name be remembered..."

Sarik hesitated again, and finally went on,

"Sable...my brother's name...was Sarik."

The young man's silver eyes narrowed in confusion.

"W-what?"

"I carry the name that my brother bore in life, in honor of his memory. Along with my true name that was given to me on the day of my birth."

"Sorrin." Sable whispered. The eyes of the dragon seemed to light up as he heard his true name from his liver's lips, and Sable said it again. "Sorrin...Sorrin is your true name."

"Yes, my love. It was been so long since my brother's murder that no one in your human world is aware that Sarik was his name and not mine. Not even Marcus knows. I met him years afterward when the opportunity to become a Marker was brought to me."

"Oh, god, Sari-um...Sorrin..." Sable murmured, wrapping his arms around him and smothering his head in kisses. "I am so sorry..."

They stayed like that for many long moments, the weight of the information resting against them and the strength of their connection pushing it slowly away as the time passed. They began to feel dozy once more, and Sable felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier. It was still early, after all.

"Sable, it is still early." Sarik yawned. "Why don't we catch a few more hours, eh?"

"Hmmyesh..." Sable mumbled, burying his face into the dragon's neck. "We'll talk more when we wake up again, though, don't think we won't."

A hearty chuckle against Sable's cheek, and then soft kisses.

"G'night." Sable yawned.

"Good morning's more like it." His lover pointed out.

"ohgod..." The young man grumbled.

"Good morning, then, Sable."

"Good morning...Sorrin."

This last was a tiny whisper, making the dragon shudder, and close his eyes to join his lover in sleep once more.


End file.
